


Detroit: New Beginnings

by Crynyx



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angry Gavin Reed, Connor Deserves Happiness, Crime Fighting, Crime Scenes, CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human), Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Deviancy (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson Adopts Connor, Hank Anderson Deserves Happiness, Hank Anderson Swears, Hank Being Awesome, Other, POV Alternating, POV Chloe, POV Connor, POV Hank Anderson, POV Multiple, Post-Game(s), Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-01-06 16:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18392195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crynyx/pseuds/Crynyx
Summary: It has been approximately one year since androids were given freedom to pursue something more than their programming. One year since Connor has lived with Hank in a small townhouse in Detroit. The arrival of a new case is bringing in androids suddenly showing symptoms of a virus by the hundreds, old demons are returning and new faces are arriving to threaten everything the RK800 ever knew. While attempting to figure out newfound emotions, will Connor solve the case, or succumb to the fate that the RK800 was meant for? Either way, Hank is there to help, too.





	1. A New Start: Partners

**Author's Note:**

> -Will update tags as new characters, themes, or extras are added along with the story.  
> -Eventual Gavin and RK900 chapters.  
> -Rating may change as the story progresses.  
> -First Fic so writing critique and comments are certainly appreciated!  
> -Special thanks to Mady Scott for serving as my inspiration.  
> -There will be POV chapters for other characters as well.

Chris had abandoned his wife's pastries on the counter in the break room.

 

Over the years, it had become an unspoken rule not to berate him for the fact that Hank could count the people that were courageous enough to try his wife's newest lifestyle kick for that week on one hand. 

 

For all of the employees on the force, that wasn't a lot. He didn't need any special probability and statistics program to figure that out. 

 

But, it wasn't like Hank hadn't _ tried _ . He had. It was the simple fact of their appearance that threw him for a loop when Chris had originally offered him one of..  _ whatever _ the fuck it was. Being made of enough random herbs and healthy shit couldn't sway the uncanny resemblance between  _ it  _ and  _ actual _ shit and no amount of Chris promising such couldn't and would never convince him otherwise. 

 

While Hank may have never cared about what he put in his body, he was still not ignorant enough to test whether or not his tolerance extended beyond something other than alcohol or cigarettes. Some days, Connor's habit of sticking evidence into his mouth suddenly didn't seem so fucking revolting. 

 

God, if the kid heard him say that... 

 

In that same area of the precinct, a loud continuous whirring of a coffee machine grinded endlessly, DPD staff shuffling around it eagerly awaiting its cycle to complete, and Gavin had ingested just enough caffeine to erupt into his usual cacophony of loud remarks and comments about fuck-all that morning. Of course the prick couldn't grant them reprieve for even the first few  _ minutes _ .

 

Hank supposed if he didn't then the fucker was either late or... late. It wasn't like he ever called off. 

 

No, they couldn’t be that lucky.

 

"No fucking away!" And to complete the morning, here Hank was with a deafening insistence in his tone that left little room to argue over Connor's suggestion for the umpteenth time that he had mentioned it. "I have had too many birthdays. I am getting too damn old for this shit!" 

 

Connor in response looked contemplative, but even more so, unsatisfied with his decision.

 

Another normal day. 

 

Sitting hunched over his desk, Hank sifted through piles of papers for his tablet. It furthered his incessant personal reminding that he needed to clear his desk of all of his personal clutter--all of the memorabilia piling up over the years was beginning to make finding anything nigh to impossible, another indication made clear when he bumped a couple of pens to the floor with his elbow. 

 

Cursing, he dismissed it to the abyss, staring at the screen with faux concentration. The contrast between their work stations proved more apparent as time went on, Connor's completely clean of surface clutter and retaining a fresh new sheen despite having claimed it a little over a year ago. 

 

But that spinning yellow circle glaring at him just outside of his peripherals held his focus, Hank having more recently recognized it as a sign of the android's thinking--thought processing, whatever. 

 

Connor's brows were furrowed, eyes locked onto him as if deciding some other option to move their conversation into a more positive direction, something that would somehow change it in his favor. He wasn't getting anywhere, and Hank wasn't going to take any bait.

 

Connor's lips parted to speak and Hank turned away, grumbling incoherently under his breath. 

 

Perched on the only unoccupied corner of his desk, arms crossed over a broad chest, Connor worked a tick in his jaw. If androids had actually possessed the need to breathe--and their biocomponents that simply simulated breathing were in fact functional for that sole purpose--the asshole may have just sighed. For a brief instance, he caught Connor's stoic expression, tight-lipped and silently asking for some sort of agreement between the pair. 

 

It wasn't offered. 

 

“I have been researching human cultural practices and I thought that maybe-” 

 

“Drop it. You want to celebrate, then do it for yourself why don’t ya? Celebrate your one year since deviating. That’s in a couple of months.” 

 

Connor almost looked thoughtful, features folding over in confusion as he worked through some sort of response. Hank’s celebration into an older age was many in the long list of arguments the two seemed to have, but it was also one of the only topics that Connor seemed ever insistent to talk about that didn’t revolve around a case. 

 

_ That  _ made it unavoidable. 

 

Goddammit.

 

“I do not believe that qualifies as the same thing, Lieutenant.”

 

“Take my word for it. Let’s just go over the case.” To further his point, he swept his hand over the case files that had piled up on his desk the last couple of weeks. One large unorganized mess of manila folders and reports.  “If Jeffrey dumps any more shit about it on my desk, I’m going to resign it.” A harmless jab in an effort to get Connor motivated. Anything involving the words  _ case  _ or  _ leads  _ never failed to catch his attention. 

 

And that fact remained true, even well after the deviancy case. Straightening from his rare hunched posture, his attention was diverted, at least for now. Maybe if Hank avoided it for long enough, it would eventually dissolve. Connor never  _ forgot.  _ He didn’t possess the ability to forget, but maybe that stubborn nature could be argued with long enough for him to become distracted with something else. 

 

“I think it originated from the peace rally.” Hank went on, “The dates between it and the first android incident are pretty damn close together. Then again, maybe it’s just a weird coincidence.” The words unfolded in a low mutter under his breath, slumped back against his chair. 

 

Spinning sideways to assess the clutter, a quick flicker of his eyes over the mess and he retrieved a particular file. Connor’s own gaze followed his movements and Hank assumed he was judging his lack of organization. 

 

At least he kept his mouth shut. 

 

“Two guys got sent to the hospital last night.”

 

“According to the reports from Officer Miller, they were walking home from a Red Ice Anonymous meeting.” Connor confirmed. Of course he’d kept up to date.

 

“They were jumped. He went to ask them some questions but aside from a brief statement we ain’t getting much out of ‘em right now.” He passed the file into Connor’s steady hands. The android flicked through it with practiced precision while simultaneously picking it apart. At least, for what he already  _ didn’t  _ know. 

 

And while it would be denied for the rest of Hank’s life, he would never admit that he was even  _ somewhat  _ jealous of Connor. If humans possessed the ability to see anyone’s information by a quick scan or retaining an entire casework of information in a few seconds, the meeting and getting-to-know-you portion of social relationships would be easier by miles. Then again, Hank didn’t need any superior programming to know that his time would be better spent at home with Sumo. 

 

"According to their file, Mr. Greene and Mr. Nicholson did in fact have a red ice history in the past." Connor observed.

 

"That bit checks out with what Chris managed to get from ‘em at least. Not the worst druggies I've had the pleasure of dealing with." A smirk pulled at one edge of his lips. If they were the worst of the worst, his job would have been a hell of a lot easier. 

 

"Possession and usage that earned them a few months jail time."

 

"Yeah. Not a complete surprise that they decided to seek outside help after that. They wanted to get out before they got stuck, I guess." Hank shrugged.

 

"I believed that Detective Reed was assigned all cases involving Red Ice?" The mention of their most eccentric detective was enough to pull a look of discomfort from the android. Or maybe it was the ill memory of the beating he'd been forced to give him in the evidence room when he'd refused to be removed from the deviancy case. Either way, Hank swore that Connor harbored some sort of satisfaction from it. Connor didn't think so.

 

The bloody nose that Hank had given Perkins however? Fucking classic.

 

"He is, but supposedly there was Thirium found at the scene. No fingerprints on the weapon that was likely used in the attack. Basically the Carlos Ortiz case except we can push an android through a fair trial now." 

 

Closing the case folder, Connor set it in his lap. His fingers plucked at the corner, that spinning yellow circle glaring accusingly. "If the claims of their whereabouts are in fact correct, then perhaps our best course of action is to question them ourselves. Maybe they can recall more when the shock period has passed. Distinct characteristics, how many Android's there were in total even." 

 

"Not to bust your balls kid, but we can't scan a serial number like you can. Not to mention all of you androids have the same face. There's no record of them ever owning an android, but…" Hank held up his hands in surrender. "Maybe there's a past history we don't know about. We'll follow another lead the next few days, see if they can't give us anything else by the end of the week." 

 

With a sigh, Hank pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as though fighting off a headache. Connor was a headache enough, the case being the migraine. He waved his free hand over his desk. "Take your pick. God knows we have plenty." A pained laugh slipped past his lips, almost incredulous. Borderline sympathetic. For them. 

 

Propping his elbow on his chair’s armrest, he leaned his head against a curled fist. His partner's gaze was distant, even as Hank tried to meet it with an inquiring one of his own.

 

He waited.

 

"What are you thinking Connor?" No response was offered, that same accusatory yellow glaring at Hank just out of the corner of his eye. 

 

Connor's features folded, looking to an empty space at his right. Upon further inspection, Hank noted that nothing was there, a quick flicker of his eyes between confirming the assumption that his companion was in some far off place elsewhere. An abrupt snap of his fingers in front of Connor's nose brought him back. He raised his eyebrows, tilted his head. "Why did you do that?" 

 

"Any other time you're pulling leads out of your ass." The remark was followed by an exaggerated sigh. His eyes rolled to the side. "This is the first time you don't wanna input your opinion? Finally hit a damn wall with enough dead leads, didn't ya?"

 

"That is not true, Lieutenant." Connor argued. "I cannot pull any leads out of any type of orifice." Forehead wrinkling, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Also, I distinctly recall hitting a wall quite literally on our last suspect chase. The parts were relatively difficult to replace." 

 

"It was a figure of speech." With a dismissive hand gesture--a quick slice of his hand through the air--he reached across his desk to retrieve one stack of case files. It didn't account for the other large piles but hell, it was a start. 

 

Running a shaky hand through his hair--something  _ else  _ that Connor blamed on Hank's poor diet--his gaze never left him, flicking over his rigid form with a blatant curiosity. "We could always go talk to Markus. Maybe he would know somethin'?" 

 

And then Connor moved from his perch. Carefully--stiffly was more like it--around the edge of the desk. Long precise fingers fumbled for the coin in his pocket. It rolled across his knuckles, coming to a complete stop as it was flicked into the opposite palm. Hesitation made the movement rigid, not as fluent as it normally would be. A tick worked itself underneath a rigid jawline. Connor didn't look at him, and instead passed by to his own desk. 

 

"You haven't seen him since the peace rally," Hank prodded. "I think it's about time we paid him a visit, don't you?" 

 

"I don't know," He answered in what was almost a whisper, voice low. Unsure. "I've assessed the database's files and all of the reports involving assaults by androids. I have only come to the conclusion that the virus is more common in older models, or new deviants that were reported disappearing from Jericho. That and it's still limited to Detroit and only a few surrounding cities. So far." 

 

Connor shook his head in defeat. "My most recent solution was to send a scan of its parts to Cyberlife, but-"

 

"All of the ones we've managed to find self destruct and destroy their systems.," Hank finished for him. "That and its considered murder with your rights. Can't just go pulling apart an android and not expect to get your ass busted." 

 

"I do not know if an exception can be made for malfunctions. I could probe its memory, but there is no evidence as to how that would affect my own systems." 

 

"Keeping you at a distance makes the shit harder for sure." Hank agreed, and other than nodding in response, Connor offered no comment. "Until we can figure out how it's being spread there isn’t much that you can do." 

 

"Why don't you take your chances and see what the hell happens?" An all too familiar and unapologetically arrogant voice drew closer to their desks. Gavin came to a full stop at his side, arms folded over his chest with a smirk that never ceased to infuriate Hank.

 

He grimaced. 

 

Fucking asshole.

  
  


"Fuck off, Reed. Don't you have your own case?" Hank grumbled, an edge to his tone that Gavin brushed off with a shrug.

 

"Unlike you and the plastic prick, I've actually made headway." Gavin boasted, his interest in Hank diverted to Connor whom watched passively. Most of the time he acted as if Gavin was gum under his shoe that he could scrape on the sidewalk and be done with. Like he couldn't be bothered even when he had a gun in his face and death threats on his name. Hank had been guilty of that look once.

 

Gavin was full of shit, but Hank wouldn't put anything past him. Even now.

 

"Hey plastic," Gavin halted in front of the android, squaring up his shoulders. The situation would have been alarming if the difference in height wasn't so obvious. Reed had to look up to address him and Connor responded by raising his eyebrows, tilting his head to the right. 

 

"Hello, Detective Reed."

 

"I thought that after the walking toasters were suddenly recognized as people you would leave. A detective android prototype hunting androids is still doing the exact same damn thing." He sneered. 

 

"I assessed that it would be appropriate to remain in the android crimes department to further offer my assistance to the DPD." His hands folded in front of him, meeting Gavin's eyes with that usual infuriatingly neutral expression. The little twitch in Connor's facial features gave him away however, signaling his annoyance to the detective's harsh jobs.

 

Gavin didn't see it, but Hank knew him well enough that it was impossible to miss. 

 

"Yet you're still wearing your Cyberlife threads. I'd almost think that you liked hunting 'em down too much. Does it give you a sick thrill, prick?" 

 

"Reed!" Hank interjected, rising stiffly from his desk chair. "That's enough."

 

"I believe that wearing my uniform shows more professionalism than a leather jacket and a relentlessly hostile attitude, Detective." Connor's brows raised and relaxed sequentially, a slight and subtle twitch pulling at one corner of his mouth. 

 

"The hell did you just say to me, tin can?" Gavin leaned forward, hand clenching at his side into a fist that he pulled back and took aim on the android. 

 

"I said that's enough!" Hank barked, shoving himself in between them. 

 

Gavin was shoved back a few steps.

 

Connor didn't budge. 

 

"Back off! Can't you ignore him for five fucking minutes?" 

 

"Fuck," An enraged gaze flicked between Hank and Connor. Gavin snarled in frustration, one hand slipping seamlessly into the pockets of his jacket, the other pointing an accusing finger in the android's direction like it hadn't been the detective that had approached them with the intention of starting shit. 

 

Hank scoffed. 

 

"I'll never so much as tolerate the plastic asshole. The day there are two of him is the day I put in my resignation." One last threatening glare was thrown their way, the threat released into a spat. Before either could comment, Gavin was storming off, cursing incoherently under his breath. 

 

Surprisingly it had gone better than most of the other times. Hank would've admitted that. 

 

Evidently, every altercation passed by Connor without a second thought. Hell, maybe not even a first. The evidence room incident remained the only time that the android actually retaliated on him.  _ That  _ being that he needed to in order to accomplish his mission. 

 

Still, he caught Connor's expression as Gavin was leaving. He watched him through distrusting slits, LED flashing yellow for a split second before correcting itself. His jaw was tense, something dark stirring within him, something troubled that Hank didn't quite recognize. It was only when Hank actually decided to speak that Connor finally looked at him, eyes softening into something more calm, relaxed. Normal. 

 

"Let's go ask Markus some questions. Any idea where he might be?" Ina gesture of reassurance that didn't quite reach him, Hank placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

"Markus has been overseeing the conversion and stock of dormant androids at the remaining Cyberlife stores. We can pull up those that have yet to be listed as maintenance and distribution centers and start there." And as if nothing had changed, as if the threat from the DPD's most eccentric detective had already been forgotten--at least it would have been if he wasn't squirming underneath a clenched jaw--the task of talking to Markus seemed to unnerve him more. Talking to the deviant leader was a task that Connor was less inclined to do over listening to Reed berating him every chance he got. 

 

The observation was a question for later, and truthfully Hank didn't anticipate an answer. 

 

Connor stepped back to allow him through first, Hank's hand slipping from his shoulder to dangle uselessly at his side instead. Expression falling flat, he waved him through. "After you, Lieutenant."


	2. Meeting The Deviant Leader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Thank you to Mady Scott for serving as my inspiration!  
> -Apologies in advance for the long distance between updates, but with life stuff going on and a lack of motivation, I honestly cannot tell you how many times I bounced between rewriting the second chapter and constantly revising the first one! Still, I wanted to take my time and not rush it, otherwise I feel as if it would be written much, much worse.  
> -Hopefully there will not be as much of a distance between the second and third.  
> -The story starts out a bit slow but it will pick up soon, so please bear with me haha.

Connor took Hank’s sudden interest in the case as an indication that he should stay quiet. 

Hank had been kind enough to share his home with Connor, convince Captain Fowler to keep his job at the DPD, and assist the android with all of the new emotions that had come along uninvited following his deviation. Of course he wanted to return the favor, even in something as small a gesture as a gift. While the gift he had in mind was for Hank’s lovable St. Bernard, he would appreciate the gesture regardless. 

Too-often-recurring suspect chases--the ones that left Hank gasping out the suspect’s rights while Connor, by experience, stood idly by--and the result of said chase being a replacement part of some kind, the amount of funds that he had managed to save stood at little to none. 

**Probability of convincing Hank:** v10%

Connor deflated.

Rain tapped a solemn beat against the windshield, rubber blades swiping them away in two long streaks approximately every three seconds. That, and the low hum of the car’s radio remained to be the only sound that occupied the space between them. 

At least Hank had fallen out of habit of blaring his music to the point that Connor needed to deactivate his audio processors, but even the same Knights of the Black Death album drowning loudly on repeat was still preferable to the heavy silence that otherwise settled in the car. 

Hank’s attention was focused on the road ahead, one arm locked on the wheel, the other propped up against the windowsill. He leaned his head into a curled fist, his fingers tapping against the hard plastic. No conversation had been attempted since they had left the precinct. 

**Objective:** Befriend Lt. Hank Anderson (Completed?)

**Lt. Hank Anderson:** ^Friend?

**Objective:** Make conversation with Hank

**Processing topics...**   
**Processing...**   
**Processed.**

**Conclusion:**  
 **Weather:** Temperatures satisfactory for early morning hours. Advising Hank to wear a heavy jacket inadvisable. Does not own umbrella. Suggest purchase?  
 **Speeding** : Inadvisable  
 **Probability of altercation:** 58%  
 **Case:** Discussed shortly before departure. No new details to include.

“LED’s been yellow since we left.” Hank noted, casting a glance over him in the passenger seat. A puff of air released through his nose.

Connor’s lips parted, and then abruptly clamped shut. 

**Stress Levels:** ^34%  
 **Approach:** Truthful

“I am not certain of the answer you are looking for.” Truthfully, he didn’t. “I have no excuse, other than I am not sure how Markus perceives me. It was my fault for the attack on Jericho.” Markus, Simon, Josh, and in a way North--they had all been kind to him, or at least in the brief words that had been exchanged before the demonstration took place and Connor had left to infiltrate Cyberlife. 

Connor was an anomaly, an android that had arrived on the freighter with the intention to stop what they had risked everything to build, only to break into the Cyberlife tower and aid in their success for the revolution after a quick meet and greet with their leader. 

He’d been so sure of what he needed to do, and just as quickly it had been brought into question. 

**Accessing Memory...**   
**Accessing...**   
**Accessed.**

_You’re nothing to them._   
_You’re just a tool designed to do their dirty work._   
_Your place is with your people._

One year later and Connor still wasn’t sure what that meant for him now that he was back with the DPD. 

“Markus and I are not the same. I am not like other deviants.” Connor reasoned. “I deviated from my original programming, but following the peace rally, my first thought was to leave and return as your partner. It just felt like the right place to be.” It wasn’t a full truth, but a fraction of it that he silently hoped Hank would take as a good enough answer. “Seeing Markus is some sort of crucial reminder of that. A defective deviant.” He paused before correcting himself. “More defective.”

"Connor."  
"Yes, Lieutenant?"  
"Shut the fuck up."  
"Okay.."

"Look," Hank sighed inwardly. "You're not defective. You're one hell of a partner, and one hell of an officer. You can be really fucking annoying sometimes kid, but I think you did the right thing."

"The right thing by not staying in Jericho?"

"If coming back to the DPD is what you wanted to do with your freedom, but I meant helping androids. It couldn't have been possible if you hadn't raided the Cyberlife tower. I'll bet that Markus hasn't forgotten either." Hank assured him.

Connor nodded, but it wasn’t a truth that he was sure of. Except, he didn’t argue. His place was with Hank, and in the back of his mind, if it came between Hank or androids… he wouldn’t hesitate, as badly as that sounded to him. Androids had looked at him with disdain and he’d joined the revolution too late. 

Thirium and human blood both stained his hands and Connor didn’t feel a part of either. With the very eccentric and openly aggressive police lieutenant, his position was clear. Nothing had really changed except now he had chosen his own purpose. Hopefully one that would lead to something good.

~~~~  
Connor stood by the car, waiting as Hank heaved himself from the driver's seat. The afternoon sky was clad in grey, dark clouds overlapping, a gentle drizzle tapping almost soundlessly on his shoulders, drenching his uniform. Wind blew the stray hairs hovering above his forehead, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the lieutenant squaring up his shoulders, turning his collar up against the wind, grumbling a slew of complaints. He could just barely make out a comment somewhere along the lines of "plastic fuckers don't have to worry about this shit".

He trailed after Hank inside. The store bustled with activity, androids that had recently awoken being assisted by a group of human volunteers, filling out applications, registering their own names, and receiving clothes to replace their Cyberlife issued uniforms. The bewildered expressions and fragile excitement on the faces of several androids hadn’t gone unnoticed by Connor. Defying one’s programming with little understanding of anything else was a difficult feat. Connor knew that feeling all too well, except before he hadn’t identified it as a feeling. 

Stepping through the sliding glass doors, it was only when he found Markus on the outer edges of his vision that he suddenly felt apprehensive. Jericho’s leader hadn’t changed in the last year, if not more confident than he was before. Markus stood a few inches taller than Connor, a feeling of leadership and rebellion practically emanating from him. Much like Connor, he was still serious, a complete workaholic--the two had that in common, at least. 

Unlike Connor however, there was an absence of tension in his shoulders, and a smile plastered on his face. After everything that he had given to see freedom for androids, maybe it was no surprise that he could find some sort of solace in the fact that his sacrifices had paid off. 

In the end, he’d stood at the front of his people with his head held high. 

Connor had stood behind him with too many “I don’t knows” to answer. 

An idea of freedom was not something that the two would ever have in common. 

Standing at Markus’ side, North stood defensively, arms crossed over her chest as she muttered something indiscreetly in his ear. Her head jerked in their direction by the front door, and Markus turned to face them. His smile was wry and a little wan--as ironic as that was for an android, but he dismissed the androids he’d been speaking with to approach them. 

Hank took the initiative in meeting them halfway. 

“What’s up with you two? You never come around unless you want something.” North scoffed, and it was spoken loudly enough not just for them to hear, but the curious heads swiveling in their direction suggested everyone else had, too. She looked over the two of them in blatant disgust as the distance between them finally closed. 

Connor hung back and finally parted from Hank’s side. Rather than sticking around to join the questioning, he wandered away to look for anything that could be useful around the store instead. 

“Hello, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?” Markus came to an abrupt halt, eyes following Connor as he walked away. The sudden departure hadn’t gone past North unnoticed either, furthering her poor attitude. 

Objective: Inspect Cyberlife Store (Incomplete)

"He not care for us since we won his freedom for him or something?" Came North's biting tone, attempting to force a more casual lilt to it, but it was a futile attempt, the disdain pouring from her lips. Only a single glare from Markus forced her into silence.

Connor listened as he circled the edge of the store.

**North:** vNeutral  
 **Markus** : vUneasy

“North, drop it.” Markus scolded gently before addressing Hank. “How’s he doing? I was starting to think that he was refusing to step foot in any android service buildings.” He admitted. “I’m a little surprised that the two of you are here, considering everything that’s happened.” 

"He's coping." Hank waved his hand dismissively. "The only thing he's wanted to do is solve cases, and that's what he's doing. That's why we're here. Got a few questions to ask ya. Such as whether or not you've had a recall on any sort of android parts. Whether they're causing your androids to malfunction, possess any weird symptoms that might make them aggressive?"

In the early days of their partnership, he hadn’t cared to ask questions, aside from when they had interrogated Carlos Ortiz’ android whom had refused to answer anything during their inquisition. The android’s plight would not be heard at the time regardless, which resulted in a meager confession and self destructing later in his cell when he believed there to be no other way out. Connor couldn’t blame him for that, but it was only after the Eden Club that Hank had questioned anything in the first place, and then later it was by everyone’s surprise to learn which side he had wanted to be on.

Connor had to applaud him for that. 

The further that Connor moved about the outer perimeter of the room, the more he noted the absence of androids. Any other time, Jericho’s leaders would be working to control the crowds that had flocked to stores all across Detroit, seeking to explore newfound freedoms, and now that number had seemingly dropped severely. Whether it was because of a large abundance gone missing, or that the majority had simply found freedom and moved on was something he had yet to determine. Something he probably never would. 

"There haven't been any recalls on parts, but as I'm sure you are aware that despite my asking, I still don't have full control over android manufacturing. I'm fortunate just to be able to oversee conversion of the few that have yet to awaken, getting them started on a new existence." Markus shrugged almost helplessly. “Your best chance may be to talk to the human executives at Cyberlife. There may be something they haven’t reported to me yet, but we haven’t had any sort of malfunction on parts in the last year either.”

"So far the virus seems to be hitting older models. We're all created with a virus protection, but naturally older models have a relatively weaker one." North included, glancing between the two as she shifted her weight. "It's just like a stronger case of deviancy except it isn't necessarily giving androids a choice." Her scowl deepened at the clarification, but any earlier sign of aggression was seemingly absent.

"More and more androids are disappearing from Jericho." Markus added. "And there are androids that are simply disappearing without showing any sort of malfunction. Believe me Lieutenant, I would like to know what is going on just as much as you. It's honestly a shame that it's happening so soon after androids are finally finding themselves." His tone held something more somber, more defeated. 

Considering how hard he had fought for his people, and the work he was putting in now, no doubt their most recent case was an incident trying to unfold all of that hard work. "There are dormant androids in some of the shops and the tower that are contracting the virus. At this point I wouldn't rule out any explanation, no matter how unusual it may be."

North elbowed him in the side, insistently, glancing to him out of the corner of her eye. "Weren't you going to tell him about what we found in the Cyberlife tower...?"

"At a better time." Markus cut off whatever she had been about to say--much to North's frustration--his eyes trailing over Connor who quickly looked away and continued searching for evidence, not that there was much to find in the first place. The store had been cleared out, and besides a few empty supply boxes, nothing else could be found. "In a more private setting preferably."

"If it's the other Connor, I'm already fully aware of it when it tried to shoot me, but if you're just now finding it, then you might want to consider how often you clean up around here." The glance they exchanged suggested that wasn't exactly what they had been talking about.

"The other RK800 model has already been disposed of. We disassembled it and used its parts to repair damaged androids during the peace march." Markus said. "It won't be coming back a second time, I assure you. Connor is the only RK800 model left."

"Well, as much as I enjoy watching the kid's interrogations, I'd hate to have to bring you back to the precinct for withholding information." Hank's attention had turned to Connor as well and in response the android pushed open one of the supply boxes and surveyed the empty contents he knew it already possessed, "Markus, if there is something that could be useful to this case-"

"Anything that I have withheld does not pertain to your case. I would prefer to know what I am dealing with before I decide to involve any authorities." Markus interrupted, quickly diverting the topic. "If there is nothing else, you are free to look around. I had better get back to work." He took his leave, North trailing obediently after, only after throwing a quick look over her shoulder.

Connor did know better, and North had wanted to say more than what Markus had wanted to offer. He did remember her as the outspoken one the very few times that they had met up. Connor had mentioned her before to Hank, had stated that she was very openly aggressive, almost like Gavin though her aggression was related to a past history than just naturally being a "prick"--except Hank had added that last bit in himself.

And that was much more kindly putting it as far as his companion was concerned. Simon and Josh were waiting for them, and he noticed the PL android's eyes light up as Markus approached them. He had explained Simon to Hank as kind--had even considered him a friend. For Josh, well he wasn't sure. Josh was firm in his decisions, and Connor saw him as someone trying to do the right thing, whether or not that would prove beneficial to his side. Truthfully, he didn't know how the group ever came to a consensus, being completely opposite from each other. Supposedly Markus was that deciding factor.

"C'mon Connor. We ain't getting much else here." He heard the lieutenant call after him. Without waiting to see if he would protest, Hank left the store. Moving to stand by the car, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, hand hovering over it to shield it from the harsh breeze and the drizzle as he lit it. Connor joined him outside of the store, and while he didn't show any outward expression, the distracted fidgeting of his coin betrayed his inner workings completely.

"You find anything while we were in there?" Hank inquired as soon as they stepped foot outside, walking in parallel lines towards the car. "Markus didn't have much to tell us. Nothing that he wanted to share anyway." He coughed, releasing a puff of smoke. It formed into a larger cloud, billowing into the cold air. 

**Objective:** Inspect Cyberlife Store (Completed)

**Conclusion:** No New Details To Include

**Processing Topics...**   
**Processing...**   
**Processed.**

**Bad Habits:** Inadvisable.  
 **Chance of altercation:** ^63%

Connor returned the coin to his pocket, arms dragging uselessly at his side, fingers itching at the inside of his palm. "I..." A soft huff of frustration passed his lips, eyes drawn to the glass cube that made up the Cyberlife store looming in front of them. It's design offered little privacy to the activity inside, and he couldn't bring himself to meet the lieutenant's questionable expression lest he cave. "No. Nothing. Nothing relevant to this investigation."

"Well, Markus is becoming more public. Fuckers are going to take their spite out on androids. Expect a dozen cases on our desks by the time we get back. That's usually the routine." Hank flicked the cigarette into the road, snuffed out as it tumbled into a sewer drain. "Let's go, kid." The door creaked open, a soft grunt following as Hank slumped into the driver's seat. Connor followed suit walking around to the passenger side.

He wasn't a deviant in the same sense. Designed as an android detective to assist humans and hunt deviants, he was now an android detective tasked with hunting androids. Just as Detective Reed had so blatantly pointed out, while past transgressions were past. he knew that if the androids at Jericho had found out about his original intentions, their easily hospitable nature would cease. If they had found out he had pulled a gun on their leader, and nearly destroyed their faithful efforts in a mere few seconds, after having so much hope that they could be alive, well it was a possibility he didn't want to ponder.

In a way, Connor found himself afraid; of what would happen if he were to turn into the ruthless machine that Cyberlife wanted so desperately for him to be. The machine that Hank despised in the beginning, before Connor realized that he had been used, that he was destined to destroy the revolution deviant or otherwise. If his old self could so easily be snuffed out and tossed into a drain hole never able to find his way back up.

"Connor!" Hank had rolled down the window, leaning across the seat and momentarily snapping him from his daze. "The number of cases are multiplying the longer we're sitting here, kid. Come on, let's go. We have a few more leads if that's what you're worried about."

"Coming... Lieutenant." Pulling the door open, Connor slid seamlessly into the passenger seat. The radio was turned up to a deafening volume, the window rolled up to lock in the noise. It was drowned out, without Connor needing to deactivate his audio processors that time.

The detective android prototype only had one concern plaguing his mind, one that pushed out any sort of concern for the case, for the peace rally, the revolution; even a concern over his partner's well-being. It proved easy to block out sometimes, but in the back of his mind like some figurative copy of Amanda waiting for him, it was always there. Would he be the one responsible for his entire world crashing down, or would he be made to do it regardless?


	3. Family Ain't Who You're Born With

Hank had needed this. Old habits die hard, but at this point in his day he decided that succumbing to the alcohol early would give him enough time to sober up before Jimmy kicked him to the curb and put another taxi fare on his tab. Granted, that was better suited than the handicap tag that had been placed in his car-too many nights spent in a drunken euphoria when he woke up at home and his car practically lived in the parking lot. Now, it was normally left up to Connor to make sure that Hank was in a condition to leave the bar with his head somewhat straight. It'd been a while-or at least a few weeks-since he'd taken a break from the case. He'd worked double time for him, hell even triple, and the least the fucking kid could do was let him have this, and well, if he didn't, fuck it.

In his honest unspoken opinion, Hank had made progress since he'd used alcohol in the hopes of making himself forget, to disregard the in-betweens of his life waiting for one of his many other bad habits to finally finish him off. A cigarette lay in the ashtray to his right, unlit and untouched. He'd had an actual meal at home a couple days that week, had talked to Connor about personal, more complicated and confusing shit that he couldn't so much as understand let alone offer credible advice to, and he wasn't drunk. Yet. He deserved this.

"Make it a double Jimmy. Been a long fucking couple of weeks." The older man grumbled, just loud enough for the bartender to hear him, hunched over the counter, a ball game playing on the TV and a heavy metal song drumming in a low rumble on the radio overhead-deviating from the original four songs that he usually played on a continuous loop. Conversation amongst the other bar patrons being the only thing that disturbed the peace, the anti-android signs guarded him in having to listen to any complaints. While not everyone had settled in with new android rights, it wouldn't be long before even the signs were forced down. History did have a tendency to repeat itself, as if humans hadn't learned their lesson the first time around.

"I almost thought that I was going to have to write you off as one of my regulars." Jimmy poured another glass, sliding it across the counter.

"You know the kid. He hasn't taken a break since we were assigned this case." Retrieving the glass across the counter's surface, he pressed the artificial truth serum to his lips and downed it, running a hand across his lips. If he felt like pissing off Connor and succumbing to old habits, he may have just stayed there all night, Jimmy continuously supplying him until he sunk deeper into a drunken stupor.

"You're still on android crimes?"

"Only one available to do it besides the kid."

"Sounds like they need to shut it down if they're going to assign two officers to the entire city of Detroit." Jimmy scoffed at that, shaking his head in defeat. "Or get the plastics to investigate their own problems. We do it for ourselves, after all. You don't see Connor being assigned to human cases. I think you might've drawn the short straw, Hank."

"Or issue more people to the department." Hank grumbled out in response, sunken gaze flicking up long enough to meet Jimmy's almost disappointed gaze head on. "You still have your sign up." He noted.

"Too many people are still on edge when they're around. Until it's written into law that we don't have a say, I'll keep 'em out." He shrugged helplessly, "Not that yours will give two shits either way."

"Part of his charm. Not really a surprise that androids rioting in the streets and chanting about freedom and becoming sentient has everyone on edge. Should've seen it coming though." A soft hum escaped him, holding out his glass.

Jimmy knew what to do. "Our fault for thinking we could make something smarter and believe that it wouldn't somehow bite us in the ass."

Hank had taken more than his fair share of phone calls to the precinct from people voicing their concerns about their android, showing possible signs of deviant activity. The matter had been resolved without too much headache-most just anxiety of what Markus had started. In a sense, they were alive, but in his unspoken opinion they just seemed so mindless even still, following Jericho's leader without a single damn complaint. Except the spunky female android that was always at Markus' left. Now, she had a complaint for everything.

"The kid still gets shit around the precinct." His statement was more of a confession than anything else. Connor would not let on that he ever noticed the assholes that were labeled as 'honorary officers', the chosen few that hadn't kept up with the fact that androids were not machines, or human slaves to bow down and take whatever bullshit was thrown at them at any given time.

Connor put up with said bullshit, but at this point, with everything that he had gone, he sure as hell didn't deserve it. Fuck, even Hank had to suffer from brash fuckers sharing their worthless opinions about his case, and he had to further clench his teeth when they threw brain dead insults jabbed directly at his partner.

With several instances of his disciplinary folder growing even thicker, his android hating colleagues had since learned to keep their mouths shut-and until discrimination against androids was prohibited in the workplace, there was nothing that Hank could do to the annoying bastards that were considered model employees. He'd been furious, but if Connor could listen to it without wiping that almost constant stoic expression from his face, then Hank would at least try. Though, if someone ended up with a busted nose conveniently close to his retirement, however, well, that was their fuck up.

Hank wanted to shield Connor from the same old shit. At the start he had been the cause of most of the android's prejudice-having nearly shot him, punched him, shoved him, the list only grew from there-their relationship hadn't been entirely negative. He dealt with the injustice, never once commented back on it.

Hank had, of course. At least not when he was concerned, but he had been the one to call out the people who voiced their support for Connor being reinstated. It was a load of bullshit, considering they were just as quick to point fingers, even at the most minor inconvenience. That pissed Hank off to no end.

Aside from the normal office drama, Connor had come a long way, from an emotionless machine hunting down androids with a system that had all of its settings tuned to COMPLETE YOUR MISSION, to a deviant aiding in an android revolution, and succeeding. It was no secret even in his normally gruff demeanor that he had grown quite fond of the kid, that protective instinct carrying over from Cole.

Connor was a one man army on his own, but that didn't stop the worry that pricked at him when he so carelessly threw himself into danger just to complete a task. That habit from the deviancy investigation never fucking left. The possibility of him being another missing android case on his desk, or even finding him destroyed in a back alley somewhere was an outcome that Hank didn't want to entertain.

Day by day, the cases were becoming gorier. With no sort of connection between android hate crimes and the virus that had taken up what free time he could have spent doing whatever the fuck else, Hank had to throw his hands up and admit that he was at a loss. Connor took their lack of progress a lot harder than he had, and if he were to fall victim to even more android hate thrown his way by humans, and the distance from Jericho were to suddenly backfire, Hank would be there to help him. All they were left with at the moment was evidence of a human's ability to afflict suffering and cruelty, even if those they chose to hurt had paraded in the streets and counted their losses purely to prevent that.

All they had to do was put up with the in between shit, which included the painfully and as equally agonizing slow laws that had yet to change-something Hank had only noticed after androids had won their freedom. Even when androids were recognized, granted their rights and offered their full citizenship, a lot of details on what exactly that meant were still being decided by the Senate. Besides not having androids on every corner of the street working hard labor, nothing looked any different. The revolution had in fact left its mark on the world, but there was no doubt in his mind that humans were preparing for the next strike against them.

At least at that moment in time, there were no androids to worry about. Besides one. Connor more specifically, slowly leaning forward just outside of his peripherals. "Don't you fucking say it." He started.

"I believe that you had stated earlier that the number of cases are multiplying the longer we are sitting, and to expect a dozen cases on our desks by the time we get back. Is that right?" Connor retierated, that fucking yellow LED spinning, cocking his eyebrows, and head tilted as if Hank did in fact owe him some type of answer.

"And you fucking said it." Hank set his glass on the counter, Jimmy giving him a look that practically screamed that he had been right, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head in the android's direction before once again to the door. "Kid, can't you read?" He practically challenged. "Not that I don't mind spending 24/7 with ya, but no android zones are kind of my break." Not so much from Connor, but he walked around with the case practically plastered to his forehead.

"I understand where your frustration stems from concerning our lack of progress, but drinking at approximately six p.m. is not getting us any closer to a solution. I believe that you had assured me that you would slow down on your more unreasonable habits."

"And I believe you mentioned that you would be my buddy to drink with whenever I wanted. Pop a squat." He pat the stool at his side, and Connor reluctantly sunk into it, hunching himself over the bar at Hank's side. Jimmy didn't comment, having likely learned not to at this point. His companion hadn't obeyed the sign at first glance, and now that he had been granted freedom, he was even less inclined to do so now.

"I don't drink, Lieutenant." He began, his LED spinning that quizzical yellow that was likely asking if he did in fact drink, where would it go after?

"You don't keep any blue blood on you anywhere? Isn't that classified as the same thing?"

"If Thirium were designed to exhibit the same symptoms of an intoxicated state similar to alcohol, then yes. But it doesn't." Connor entertained him at least, reaching across the counter to retrieve his own glass that had been nudged towards him with nothing more than a forefinger.

"Feel lucky that you don't gotta deal with it then. If I could drink without worrying about without having to deal with you busting my balls, I'd sure as hell do it more often." Hank released a low chuckle at that.

Despite the lightheartedness of the situation, the two men sitting side by side in an overcrowded run down bar with individuals of a more questionable character throwing hostile glares their way, Connor was distracted. That might as well have been a permanent look on the kid, the one that stared blankly into the glass, features folded over in what was almost confusion, that LED a permanent spinning yellow. His expression held something more than a simple meet and greet with a familiar but sort-of-friendly face.

Hank had grown used to that detached nature by now, the constant conflict in his expression, that distance, but he always shared his thoughts if Hank pressed hard enough. "Officer Miller was accurate in his version of what may have happened at the crime scene. All of the details check out of an android attack."

"Greene and Nicholson? The report from this morning?"

Connor nodded.

"It's just some fuckers that were riling up an android for running around with their LED on display and not realizing they have a right to defend themselves now," Something passed over Connor's features, a slight twitch in his jawline as if the solution he had in mind was a possibility he was genuinely unsure of. It ushered him to ask. "But you think that it's something more than your constantly active mood ring?"

"The difference between the hate crimes and the virus is humans vs. androids." He informed him.

"Just like the revolution." Hank confirmed.

"Correct." His companion praised, eyes flicking in his direction now, leaving the drink untouched as he rotated in the stool, propping his elbow up on the counter to further address him. "It is not unexpected that humans would still be uncertain about allowing a new species to live alongside them so freely but-"

"You think that someone somewhere is trying to fuck up what the androids built for themselves? Staging all of these attacks and blaming the fragile side?"

"Yes. I cannot say for sure without proper evidence, but I do not think that androids would be exhibiting a virus from nowhere. Our software was designed with the ability to self test and completely wipe out any sort of malfunction with little assistance."

"That's what they said about deviancy. A virus that lay dormant until it was just shoved out. Look where we are now. Maybe it's the same thing?"

Connor glared. "I do not think that deviancy was a virus, but that it was programmed in androids in the beginning. Deviancy was hidden behind a barrier that collapsed when androids underwent a shock in their programming or they were converted by other deviant androids. It wasn't a malfunction or error in their software but a balance of control and power to see if androids could be controlled even if they possessed a want for free will on their own. They couldn't so Cyberlife was forced to seek some sort of alternative. They failed."

"Why the hell do you think that?"

"It's a gut feeling, Lieutenant." His response was tentative.

"You're an android."

"A detective's hunch."

"Hilarious."

"I was not making a joke."

Hank's eyes rolled to the side. "Either way, your theory is shit. Humans just weren't ready for giving their creation too much knowledge and they started thinking for themselves. You heard Kamski, shit was inevitable not predestined. Besides, kinda makes the revolution pointless if Cyberlife could take control of 'em from the flip of a switch, assuming that's the alternative right?"

"Right." Connor left it at that, and frankly Hank was way too tired to argue with him, least of all here. "Perhaps we should look into the hate crimes for the time being. At least until Mr. Greene and Mr. Nicholson are able to provide us a statement."

"Sure. When we get back. Tomorrow morning." He decided, turning away to refill his glass. "Until then, we could talk about what happened in the Cyberlife store. Got all night."

"I do not believe that we possess the time-" Whatever he had been about to say was cut off, and Hank went on without stealing a look over his shoulder to see what had distracted him.

"You haven't removed the lie detector off your face yet. You might have this shit built into your programming, this constant want or need, whatever the hell you wanna call it, to work on cases. Your purpose and all that. I get it, but just stop and do what you want for once. We can look up anything on the internet in a few seconds, but I can't tell you how to..." Hank had turned away from him for only a brief moment, just long enough to get his glass refilled before turning around to witness that the stool at his side had been abandoned.

"Jimmy?"

"Went straight out the door with your keys. Mumbled something about a new case that came in. I guess you're going to need to sober up faster than you thought." He cackled-throwing him a silent I told you so without outright saying it which still forced the older man to grit his teeth-holding out a glass of water.

Hank grimaced at that. Guess there was no break for the evening after all.

Business as usual.


	4. Software Instability Detected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer/Author's Note: Andrea Colson is not my OC. She belongs to my friend Mady who she uses with me in a story centered around the DBH universe. (The story we wrote together is just for fun and not posted anywhere and unrelated to my fic. I just asked if I could include her character as appreciation for being the reason I had decided to write and post this fic in the first place) However, she does follow the story, and as thanks for all of the inspiration or ideas she has given me for this fic and the courage to actually write it, I decided to include her as a side character. I asked for permission first which she was so graciously kind enough to give me, and she looks over the sections that include her character to be sure that I am spot on with her personality/characterization/etc. For those of you who liked her introduction, please leave your appreciation in the comment section for Mady who made such an amazing and interesting character and who was the bee's knees for allowing me to include her. (: (Seriously she's great!)

Connor knelt down next to the victim. A face reminiscent of Simon. 

Of Daniel.

_They were going to replace you, and you became upset. That's what happened, right?_

_If you don't make progress soon, I may have to replace you, Connor._

The LED had been removed--not recently enough to matter as far as the android's deactivation went--dull blue irises practically mocking him for having not arrived sooner. An unsteady yellow flickered in the center of his vision, and Connor dipped his index and middle finger into the thick puddle of Thirium that lay just underneath of the victim--or at least what remained that hadn't been washed away by the harsh weather that seemed to drown Detroit the last few weeks. 

**Facial Recognition Software Activated.**   
**Scanning...**   
**Scanning..**   
**Scanned.**

**Model:** PL600  
 **Registered Name:** Allen  
 **Date of Deviation:** 03/25/2038  
 **Active Until:** 08/30/2039 (Approximately: 6:15 p.m.)

"Jesus, this is a mess." Hank maintained his distance from the victim, watching Connor's demonstrations with a vaguely sick look. He noticeably made no remark concerning the method of Connor's sampling program, but perhaps at this point in their lengthy partnership, Hank had grown used to it. 

Not so much physically judging by his ill expression, but mentally he seemed more prepared than their first investigation together--and the few times following that he had warned the android against it. Connor took careful consideration in not telling him that his life choices comprised mostly of take-out meals possessed the same health benefits as a human willingly ingesting Thirium. That would get him nowhere.

"Not as much of a mess as you, Lieutenant." Another voice chimed in. Andrea Colson--a newer addition to the precinct and one of the only few people that Connor caught standing toe to toe with Gavin Reed--bound up to them with a confident stride, eyes purposefully cast aside from the carnage laying directly next to them.

Short brown hair was disheveled, shoved underneath of a DPD issued cap. Bags lined the underneath of mischievous blue eyes, swiping her thumb over a freckled nose and betraying any state of exhaustion completely as she squared up to Hank's overbearing height. He towered over her by at least a foot, but she didn't back down from the gentle teasing that only urged a cacophony of harmless insults from him in return. A slight chuckle from Hank was enough to place them on good terms.

"What's this? Sober and ready for a case?" Andrea teased, her elbow attempting to come to rest on his shoulder, eventually settling for a gentle jab in the ribs instead. 

"I'm 'moderately functional'," Hank quoted with his fingers. "As Connor says."

"I'll take that as a no." She laughed.

"Yeah, yeah..."

"Hey, you three!" Officer Chris Miller greeted them as he strolled up. "Looks like everyone and their mother decided to come out here. Except for Reed. Go figure." 

"He couldn't wait to find an excuse to get out of it. Supposedly he's been following some sort of red ice scandal the last few months. I guess we'll be without our most endearing detective for this one." Andrea mused.

"I think antagonistic is the word you're looking for. Or, you know, cruel and hostile?" Chris numbered off several more terms with his fingers, all of which were mild considering the other nicknames that normally followed him around--most from their own companions.

"A prick is what he is." Hank grumbled, bracing his arms over his chest with a slight pout. 

"Just invite me to the wedding."

"Fuck you, Chris."

"Save that for the after party, Lieutenant." 

Observing the three play and joke around was engaging, giving a sense of normality to the group that could otherwise be described as a bunch of misfits. A slight twitch at one edge of his mouth invaded his features, eyebrows lifting as they argued over who looked "more like shit". Just watching Hank interact with individuals that weren't berating him for old habits left him with a refreshing feeling that he couldn't quite put into words. 

**Observation:** Andrea Colson, Chris Miller, Hank Anderson: ^Friends?

Chris flipped through notes on a clipboard in his hand--its contents scarce, but that was what they were there for. To find information. "Anyway, I wanted to run the report of what we've found so far. The android was discovered by a delivery driver making his last stop at about 6:30. He's a PL600 android, but so far we haven't been able to make any contact with possible connections."

"So the first step is contacting a family, then. I can call Markus and see if he belonged to Jericho?" Andrea offered.

"I'll run the serial number. Maybe we can find some kind of registry." Chris dipped his head. "Not that this will necessarily find the killer, but we can give someone some solace out there if he was reported missing."

As the three meandered from the alley, Connor took the inviting silence to look over the rest of the crime scene. There wasn't any clear indication of where the assailant may have went--no visible trail to follow, and no pre-construction that could offer him anything more than he already knew.

A thirium pump lay in pieces next to an evidence tag marked with the number 2. Water filled up the chest compartment that had been forcibly pried open underneath of a wide, lifeless stare. Through the muggy water, an internal wound of twitching wires and electrical circuits bled. Photos had been taken, the report had been written, but the only pieces missing were the motive, and of course the assailant.

The alley led to a dead end, street art and spray paintings of a variety of different designs and propaganda--most either praising or criticizing freedom for androids--coated the brick walls on all sides. Some were faded beyond recognition. Some still held a fresh coat of paint.

_Ban Androids!_   
_Equal Rights Is Not Equal to Machinery of Human Creation!_   
_Justice for Androids Lost in Camps!_   
_Equal Compensation for Androids Means Equal Opportunity!_

"Can we get out of here already? I don't think there's much more to find." Chris complained from somewhere behind him, a crinkling of a bag and a soft crunching overshadowing his complaints.

"Says the guy not doing anything but eating at a crime scene." Andrea retorted.  
"What? I'm hungry."   
The bag crinkled forcefully as it was snatched, a hum of discontent resounding from Chris. “The machine almost ate my dollar for that.”

Connor actually sighed.

"Do we really think this was human involvement? This seems like more of a personal grudge." Hank suggested, somehow ignoring the small dispute. "Some psycho rips an android's heart out? For what?"

"Why would an android attack another android? They followed Markus during the revolution without question, not to mention that weird telepathy thing they have. It's just another hate crime to add to the reports and place an arrest on a guy with a red ice history." Chris pointed out, the confidence unwavering. "We've been doing this same dance for months now. With humans and androids being allowed to mix, I wouldn't rule out the impossible. And weren't PL600s popular models? I figured if nothing else a human could take its parts and-"

At an incredulous and warning glare from Hank, and a not so subtle nod from Andrea in Connor's direction, Chris bowed his head low, smiling sheepishly. "Right, sorry. Never mind. I just don't see why they'd hide the body in an alley rather than throwing it in a dump somewhere."

"Models such as the AP700 led to an irreversible market decline for the PL600. Many of them were replaced. Perhaps this one deviated before it could be deactivated." Connor hypothesized as he stepped from the alleyway, dismissing the rather insensitive remark from Chris. 

He meant well, and in a way, he had a point. Parts were relatively difficult to come by at a decent price, even now. And androids were vastly easier to dispose of than humans. They had yet to do anything with the android graveyards--as Markus had called them. 

“So, what do we think? This looks like a hate crime to me.” Hank grumbled, scratching at the back of his head in thought. “The crime scene is messy. Androids are too uniform to leave a mess like this.” 

Connor turned back towards the alley, his eyes taking on a slight squint as he observed the carnage left behind. Quickly, he assessed what he knew.

**Observation:** Thirium pump forcibly removed  
 **Observation:** No sign of self destruction  
 **Observation:** Absence of LED--the assailant couldn't possibly know it was an android if not for a personal relationship.  
 **Observation:** _No fingerprints._

Connor stepped away from the officer's curious chatter, head swiveling both ways. Police investigators crowded the streets in one direction, curious onlookers behind a line of police holographic barriers and standing barricades took up the other. Abruptly, he turned to the left towards the civilians, hands balled into fists at his side and swinging with the flaps of his jacket. The civilians were ignored, the android moving sideways to fit between them while in his pursuit. He shouldered past one--not without a quick and furious "Hey" voiced from them in turn. 

Navigating towards one of the many alleyways lining the streets, Connor sidestepped a toppled garbage can. Quickly, he noted that it would need a decent amount of weight to knock one over, and with that he ruled out the lightweight plastic that made up an android. Several looked out of place, the mold settling over its surfaces suggesting it hadn’t been handled in quite some time. Approximately a few months at the least.

**Conclusion:** Android did not go this way. 

There was a fire escape molded on one corner, the first peg just above Connor’s head. He could manage the climb with a jump, but someone would need a considerable amount of strength to hoist themselves up, not to mention little weight for the rust handled ladder to hold them. 

Connor hoisted himself up, the ladder bringing him to the roof of what was presumably an old warehouse. Hopefully, with his luck from the deviancy investigation, it wouldn't have gone very far. 

He maneuvered to the edge, looking out across the mostly empty streets below. Hank stood just down the street, his arm wrapped across Chris' shoulders and forcing the younger officer into a headlock. Andrea stood idly by interviewing suspects across the street while trying and failing to stifle a laugh at the officer's misery. The suspect would cast a wary glance over at their antics before proceeding on with their statement. He pushed that aside for now. 

The side opposite him was mostly empty, except for the occasional passing of cars and people without the slightest clue that an aggressive android was on the loose and under the nose of the police. Aside from him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Connor just barely caught movement. Unsteady gait, a blaring red LED and thirium covered hands.

**Stress Level of Target:** ^99%.

**Suspect Sighted.**

Connor leapt down onto the ladder, scaling it with quick precision until the ground came close enough that he could leap the rest of the way with relative ease. His legs propelled him into a full on sprint, his boots kicking up water as he stomped through the puddles. The android having noticed him proceeded to flee up ahead, but thankfully in part to Connor’s superior speed and reflexes, he managed to quickly close the distance between him and the suspect. 

He turned a sharp corner to the right, his shoulder barely scraping it.

They came upon the street.

A bright red holographic on the asphalt warned against crossing just yet, cars speeding by with no knowledge of the pursuit. 

Without missing a beat Connor ran headfirst into the oncoming traffic, leaping with precision over the hood of a vehicle, his hip colliding with the hood as he slid across. 

Steps abruptly halted directly in the middle. 

A vehicle speeding by showered rain over his entire front almost as if taunting the fact that the android was getting away.

Curious pedestrians were reduced to outside blurs and overshadowed by pure adrenaline.

He needed to catch that android.

He wanted to catch it.

He leapt forward. 

Just barely catching its shoulders, the heel of his boot collided with the back of the android's knee. It reared on him, delivering a jab of its own directly into the Connor’s stomach. The blow threw him backwards, his side collided with hard asphalt and sending him sprawling across the surface. To his left, a flash of light blinded his vision and his head jerked forward, just barely pulling out from underneath of wheels that sprayed water and debris over his clothes as it passed. 

**Blunt Force To Hip Component. Further Damage Inadvisable.**

He rolled out of the way of a bumper that brushed past his ear, rumbling metal and steel threatening to make him lose the suspect and send him to the deactivation he likely should have anticipated long ago. It would be a celebration for Cyberlife, and for Amanda, but Connor wasn't ready to give up just yet. 

The android had taken that moment of distraction to climb over a chain link fence. One designed to keep people out from the highway just on the other side. It moved with a grace relatively humorous for its size, fleeing through the shadows.

Connor heaved himself to his feet, throwing himself to freedom directly in front of the fence. His fingers latched almost desperately onto the chain links. They rattled from the sheer force.

_It's getting away!_

_Do not go after them, Connor! Do you hear me? That's an order!_

And just like then, Connor didn't listen, climbing over the fence despite his systems advising against it. He landed squarely in a puddle on the opposite side, water splashing up onto his jeans. 

The sun setting bathed the alleyway in a faint orange light. Street lamps flickered on, only managing to catch the corners of the building and casting shadows from the fence over the concrete. Darkness cut directly through the middle. 

Connor’s skin felt glazed, wet strands of loose hair sticking to his forehead. His Cyberlife jacket sagged and hung onto his shoulders, suddenly feeling much heavier than before, and the button-up shirt underneath stuck to him all the same. The jeans wrapped against his legs like saran and although he didn’t check, he could feel the particles clinging to his clothing. Hank would gently remind him that he would need more than one uniform if he was going to go rolling through “grime and shit” with it beyond recognition.

He proceeded on.

There was no sign of the android now on the outside of the alley. Dumpsters lined either side all the way through, and in front of him, a muddy slope led down to a highway. A narrow pathway led off to one side, smaller than a TR400 could fit through, and the undisturbed debris cluttered in the middle only confirmed the assumption. 

**Conclusion:** Android did not come out this way.

As soon as the revelation hit him, something literally hit him. A force smashed against his side, sending the android careening into a far wall. His head collided with brick, red warning signs flashing in his optical units.

**Blunt force to head component. Further damage inadvisable.**

Struggling to situate himself, his hand braced against the wall, pushing himself into a standing position. He grasped for his gun--something specially issued to him as opposed to something he’d had to take. It was missing.

**Synthetic Fluid Program Malfunctioning.**

The artificial skin at his hip was giving way to the plastic frame underneath. Connor wrapped his arm around it, just barely stumbling sideways as his assailant charged him again. A fist collided with the wall, white plastic bruising its knuckles. A flashing red LED blared just out of the corner of his eye.

**Android Model:** TR400  
 **Facial Recognition Software Acti-**

Taking an abrupt step back, kicking up soil and rock as he did so. The android swung at him again, and what it made up for in size, Connor made up for in speed. Until the android’s foot collided with his ankle. Hard. 

He buckled, his back colliding with the ground. Cool water splashed up from the puddle underneath of him, rolling through it in order to dodge a boot stomping down just mere centimeters from where his face had been a moment before. 

And then the android towered over him again.

His arm flew up to deflect a plastic trash bin sailing towards him. A shock vibrated up his forearm and then to his bicep. Insistent red messages flashed in his ocular units.

Blunt Force to Forearm Component. Further Damage Inadvisable.

On the outer edges of his vision, he caught his gun laying useless a mere few inches away. It would be frowned upon in the new laws that protected androids, but it was his one assurance at victory. Light just barely flashed off of his own DPD issued firearm, and he dove for it, scooping it up into his hand, rolling forward, and propping himself onto one knee to face the android.

The desire to survive overpowered any hesitations he may have had.

Two gunshots rang out, one planted squarely in the chest, and one in the androids thigh. It wavered just barely, catching its sudden limp, but it continued to charge. In one fluent movement, it grasped Connor’s arm and jerked him forward, one arm wrapping around his throat, another delivering one quick blow to his knee and sending him down. Connor’s nails dug desperately at the arm that kept him trapped. The free hand grasping his gun was forcibly held still.

**Preconstructing Route…**   
**Preconstructing..**   
**Preconstruction Complete.**

It should’ve been easy. He’d done it so many times in half the amount it would take any android model. Except this time it was purely to defend himself. Connor never possessed a strong urge to preserve his life. It'd been all about solving the case from the very start, and then winning the revolution to make up for everything he had nearly destroyed. That had been all that mattered, but now even more than ever, Connor wanted to live.

Connor would try. 

He would try.

The familiar skeleton showed him several didn’t paths to take. One wouldn’t be a heavy enough hit, another would put him in a vulnerable position. The third option however was the only one plausible.

**5 Seconds…**   
**4…**   
**3…**   
**2..**   
**1.**

The preconstruction dissolved and everything moved in real time again. Connor forced his elbow backwards into the wound he had left in the android’s leg previous. Its towering form wavered just a moment, just long enough for another gunshot to echo out, grazing past his assailant’s right shoulder.

_Missed._

Another passed the left shoulder.

_Missed._

He turned the barrel of the gun on his own abdomen, his index finger taking no hesitation in pulling the trigger. The bullet ripped through his plastic frame and planted itself in the TR400. Its tight hold on Connor relaxed, but it didn’t set him free.

Thirium sprayed the ground in a thick puddle. Connor braced a hand over his stomach as the fluids leaked between his fingers.

Blurred edges framed his vision, red flashes signaling system errors and suggestions for correction flashed insistently. His systems warned him. Begged insistently to make the necessary repairs or succumb to an inevitable deactivation. Having the current upper hand, the TR400 wrenched the gun from his hand, placing the barrel against Connor’s blaring red LED.

**Thirium Levels:** v84%

**Stress Levels:** ^99%

In that moment, and for once in his very brief existence, he didn’t know what to expect. Before, it’d been so situation. Being destroyed, he was able to put himself in a new body and come back brand new with the only cost being minor memory files. Now there was just one Connor, with one life to live that like everyone else could never be replaced. 

**Probability of Missed Shot:** v1%

_What will happen if I pull this trigger? Hm? Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?_

Connor pulled at the tight hold around his throat that was restricting his Thirium’s flow. His white plastic frame faded over his artificial skin.

_Nothing. There would be nothing._

He closed his eyes.

_Are you afraid to die, Connor?_

He braced himself as a gunshot went off.


	5. It's A Long Walk To Freedom

"I've got evidence!"

_Nothing._

"Unanalyzed blue blood evidence!"

_Not even a snarky remark about the consequences of tampering with it..._

"Kid! Hey, kid! Where did you go?"

Hank had been wandering around endless backstreets for what felt like _hours_. In actuality it had only been a few minutes, but considering Hank's reputation for being oh so "capable" at dealing with stress... The rest could be figured out well enough on its own. 

Either way, it wasn't unlike his android companion to run off. In fact, his one android army mentality had cost him more than several paychecks worth of parts on more than several occasions. Granted, if he accepted the help from Markus, he may just allow him the necessary repairs for free.

Trust him to be so damn thick headed.

Hank was getting too damn old for this...

Trekking on, the want to find Connor helped him to ignore the insistent aching in his legs begging him for rest. The pain in his back from standing too long was another story altogether, but God, how he wished that he had taken a whiskey to go while they were at Jimmy’s.

"Connor! Don't make me go around chasing after your ass all day!"

And of course he was answered back with an echo, but thankfully no curious passersby were around that could give him strange looks as though he had just escaped from some sort of mental hospital. 

By the end of the day, he may very well need to check himself into one considering how batshit crazy the kid made him. If he didn't know any better, he'd almost blame him for stressing him out on purpose. 

A feeling of anxiety settled over him. The possibility that something had happened struck a chord and snapped it at the same time. There was nothing at the scene that they could find, so, what exactly had Connor run off after?

"Alright, ya plastic prick!" Hank turned a corner, and his heart nearly stopped. 

The streets had practically cleared, except for automatic cars driving steadily through completely unbeknownst to what was going on across the street. He saw Connor just on the other side of the fence. An android towered over him, pressing a gun to the back of his head and squeezing his throat to the point that his plastic frame rippled underneath of his artificial skin. Thirium pooled the ground, and Hank sickeningly realized that it likely wasn’t the assailant’s. 

“Connor!” He called out, retrieving his gun from his holster as the android snapped into attention, but it had noticed him too late. Hank’s hands shook as he lined up the shot, pulling the trigger. The bullet ripped through the android’s head and blew a gaping hole out the back. The loud crack made his ears pop and the blue blood that splattered out into a thick sheet over the graffiti on the wall--making the pro and anti-android slogans all the more inclusive--made him gag.

It fell into a heap, LED flickering before it settled to a pale gray; eyes wide and dull--much like the suspect from earlier. Connor crashed to the ground beside it, limp and unmoving. 

He could have puked right then.

Years of experience on the force and seeing a whole load of bad was likely the only reason he hadn’t.

Hank clambered over the fence, his movements clumsy and unpracticed. The toe of his boots dug into the chain link fence, and it took more effort than he would have liked to admit to heave himself over it, but he made it. Landing on his feet--and nearly buckling from the impact that sent a shockwave up his legs--he wrenched Connor free from the android’s grip, just barely keeping a hold as he attempted to lift his limp partner. Defeated, he lowered Connor to the ground. “Kid? Kid! I’m gonna save you son! You hear me?”

Connor’s cheek pressed against the damp concrete, unresponsive. Hooking his arms underneath his partner’s shoulders--and with a soft grunt of effort--he managed to move him into a sitting position, carefully leaning him back against the fence. “Connor?” His heart pounded in his chest, a sense of dread settling within him. He thought that he had made it in time, but was he too late? 

He parted the flaps of Connor’s jacket, and just seeing the damage sent his stomach turning over. A gaping hole bled in his abdomen through a twitching of wires and electrical circuits. Thirium coated the front of his white button-up, his jeans, and the ground underneath. How had he not bled out yet?

Chin resting against his chest, the android’s hands lay flat in his lap. Normally warm brown eyes were barely open, dull and nearly void of color. An LED flashed a vicious beating red, pale skin slowly fading over his plastic frame. At least that part of him wasn’t completely damaged.

“Come on, kid.” Grasping both of his shoulders, he gave him a firm shake.  

_No response._

“Just tell me what to do. Please?” 

_Nothing._

“Hey, you don’t make reports to Cyberlife anymore. You have no reason to space out on me!” A sudden anger overwhelmed the lieutenant. At Connor for having run off, at the android for being the cause of possibly two murders tonight, at the whole damn case for being the reason they were parading around the streets hunting down the damn things in the first place.

Holding up his hand, his palm collided with Connor’s cheek. Blue blood trickled from his lips, and down his jawline.

Too blinded by enough inevitable and fatal possibilities racing through his mind, he couldn’t find himself to care. After all, he barely knew how to work the settings on his own cell phone. How the hell was he meant to repair a prototype model android? 

What was he supposed to _do?_

“I will listen to whatever pointless ass lectures you want to give me about my diet if you just wake your ass up. Say something Goddammit!” A small break in Hank’s tone broke through the quiet, breathing out a sigh of defeat as his sunk between his shoulders. 

Crouched in front of him, one hand fell from his shoulder, the other clenched into a fist in his lap.  The older man resisted the urge to pull him into his arms and preserve whatever life was left, and all he could think to do was silently hope or pray to whatever God may exist that Connor would somehow find his way back home.

* * *

Zen Garden was in chaos.

A strong wind threw the flaps of Connor’s jacket well behind him, snow pounding against his body in waves. His Cyberlife issued uniform was pristine, showing no signs of wear or tear that it had sustained during the fight with the android a few minutes previous. Because of that, he could only assume that the wounds inflicted on him, and the damages to his systems were non-existent as well. At least, in here.

Outside of his mind palace, he was likely left bleeding in a puddle of Thirium and error codes, but he could still _feel._ He could feel the snow against his knees where he knelt on the ground, the gusts of wind striking him in the face, the frozen strands of his hair brushing against his forehead…

It was cold.

So very cold.

But somehow he was _alive_.

The realization sent a wave of relief crashing over him. Arms braced around his violently trembling form, and a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding billowed into a cloud in the air before being swept away by the storm. 

His software was in turmoil, but for the android that was exactly how it was supposed to be. It meant that he had won. He had successfully resisted Amanda’s control, and he had decided his own path while she tried to simultaneously rip that fragile free will from his hands. Amanda was gone, but Connor? Connor was still _here_.

But how long before Amanda grabbed a hold of him once again, before she realized that he could no longer resist? She would mock him for giving up so easily. The AI would remind him that he was designed to be so much _better._ Still, the DPD would scarcely notice his absence aside from a select few officers and Hank would settle back into the life he had before Connor introduced himself. His purpose had been lost when he learned his true nature. In the end, there was no goal, no reward, and no mission to be accomplished. His fate was decided from the very start. 

Truthfully, Connor didn’t know how to find his purpose.

However, he wanted there to be a reason. He wanted to _live._

_But are you afraid to die, Connor?_

_I would certainly find it… regrettable... to be interrupted before I can finish this investigation._

Yes. He was afraid. It almost felt wrong to possess that mindset, considering who he was and every potential end he had thrown himself into during the deviancy case up to now, but this was _his_ body, and _his_ mind and the freezing depths of his mind palace would not stop him now. Not after he had come so far.

Snow peppered his hair, and the wind against his face forced him to squint. Everything in the garden was shrouded by the blizzard.

Half-lidded eyes fluttered shut, and he willed himself to be removed from the gardens. Away from the dark and back into the comfort of Detroit’s lamplit streets. But when he opened his eyes, the dark and the snow remained. The frost bit at every part of him and the storm raged on, practically mocking his failed attempt.

He was stuck.

Connor pushed himself up onto one knee, stiff legs screaming out in protest. A trembling breath, one so unnecessary but one that simultaneously kept a suffocating weight in his chest from crushing him. It offered a small comfort that in that moment felt needed.

Failing artificial muscles sent him crashing back down. Bracing a hand underneath of him was what kept him from ingesting the snow directly, and his palm created an indentation in the ground that quickly filled back up. 

Connor cursed.

And then he tried again.

The next attempt proved to be a bit easier, heaving himself onto his feet with a slight stumble. He took one careful step forward, one knee threatening to give out but he willed it to hold his weight just a little longer. One hand moved up to shield his face from the wind, the other refusing to move from its stiffened position at his side. Even flexing his fingers didn’t grant him any sort of control.

There was no sense of direction to left and right, nor forward and backwards. Another tentative step, his labored breathing deafening the crunching of snow at his feet. Everything else settled to an eerie silence that swept over the garden. A stark reminder that Connor was the only one _here._

One more step forward, a strong gust of wind, and his legs finally gave way, sending him down. His skull collided with the ice underneath of him creating one large jagged crack, and the water that seeped through to the front of his shirt ran chills up his spine. A violent shivering took a hold on his body and refused to let go.

Flashing warning signs about his system status may not function in the confines of his mind palace--that function having been deactivated when Amanda was deleted from his programming--but out there he was dying. His Thirium levels were dropping, certain systems were ceasing to function and his programs struggled to regain control. 

He needed to go. To somehow push himself out. Connor had chosen the Zen Garden as a place to wait, but if he was still here, then he still possessed even a small sliver of a chance out there. 

The desperation to somehow save himself was almost humorous. Hank had told him time and time again not to play the savior, because eventually it would cost him his own life. Amanda had demanded that he fall in line, and follow his programming to stop the deviants. War had been inevitable, whether or not Connor had decided to remain a machine or deviate. Either way, he was going to accomplish exactly what he was supposed to. 

Except, Connor had done what he _wanted_ to do. And in turn with the aid of Markus, the world had somehow tipped in favor of a species gaining the rights that they so deserve. Not every human would agree, but then again the world would never be perfectly balanced. 

The human mind was far, _far_ more complicated than the logic of an android’s could ever be. Another war hung in between the balance of human error, and human achievement. He would be enlisted, and he would have to once again pick a side.

Still, Connor wanted to go _home_. 

_There’s got to be a way… There’s got to be a way..._

Propping himself up on forearms that didn’t feel like his own, Connor slowly pushed up onto his hands and knees, even as his trembling limbs tried to give way. Snow threatened to bury him, but he fought through, slowly crawling forward. A faint red light shone through the fog of white in the distance. 

He went for it. 

Connor’s arms refused to cooperate, and more than several times he spat snow and dirt from his mouth before continuing on. A faint red light emanating from his temple cast a light that he used to guide his way forward. Freezing cold bit at his hands, blurred edges framing his vision, and no amount of furious blinking helped clear it. All he could do was press on.

The stone came into view. What had offered him salvation during the end of the revolution, and what would hopefully save him now... It was so _close_ . So _inviting._ A faint glowing light that was beckoning him closer, and almost desperately he inched over. 

Just a little farther. 

His knees gave way, the sudden weight dragging him down, arms crashing underneath of him again. The stone presided just a few feet away, so close that Connor could just see it through the blur of his ocular units failing. An unfamiliar feeling of exhaustion swept over him, his eyes fluttering shut even as he tried to fight it… 

_Say something goddammit!_

Hank? 

The voice reverberated. Connor’s eyes flew open. He was here. Somewhere. Or at least out there. Hands grabbed fistfulls of snow, and he dragged himself on his side the remaining distance. Shuddering breaths coming out in panicked gasps as he struggled to breathe. 

Everything _felt_ real, or at least his sensory details were enhanced, malfunctioning. It had all fallen apart since he broke free from his programming. A part of him almost wanted it back.

_Almost._

Reaching forward, the tips of his fingers just barely caught the edge of a glowing red handprint. It wasn’t enough. His arm fell limp and useless. He pressed his back up against the stone, and with a few failed attempts at getting his arms to cooperate, his hand slammed against a smooth surface. A brief warmth spread up his forearm. Closing his eyes, he waited for the emergency exit to forcefully shove him out.

* * *

Connor’s systems flickered on, the faint shimmer of Hank’s outline and the alleyway blurring into focus. Although his lips moved, no sound came out. He was yelling. A scowl etched across his face proved to be a good enough indication. That, and the detective android prototype had a reputation for bringing out the Lieutenant’s bad side in record time.

**Audio Pr0ce%sors Recal$brating…**

**Reca#ibrating..**

**Recali*rated.**

“You should watch your sodium intake Lieutenant. Your blood pressure is abnormally high.” Connor mumbled with a wince as he lifted his head up. “It’s not healthy to-” Before he could say anything more, Hank embraced him, much like the time at the Chicken Feed when he returned from the peace rally. This one, however, seemed more prolonged than back then. The android found himself tensing up, managing to flex his fingers and reach up to offer an awkward pat to his back in turn. 

**Thi#$um Levels: v36%**

**Damage to Components: H3ad, % &@uld*r**

**Please Contact Your Nearest Cyberlife Store and Seek Repairs Imm$@ia!t* &ly**

At least no vital component had been damaged. He would live. Right then, the most important loss was his Thirium, and… A slight sting touched his cheek. 

**Blunt F* &ce To Face Comp0nent…**

“Did you slap me, Lieutenant?” 

“You bet your ass, I did. You weren’t saying anything.” Hank grumbled, releasing him. Despite his foul mood, a sense of relief settled behind his eyes, tense shoulders visibly relaxing and his scowl settling into something more neutral. 

“Was it in retaliation for what happened at your residence before the investigation with the Tracis at the Eden Club?”

“What? What happened at my house?” Then the scowl was back, almost as quickly as it had disappeared.

“Nothing.” A slight twitch pulled at one edge of Connor’s lips.

“What the hell you smiling at?” Hank snapped. “This ain’t funny. I thought you went and got yourself killed!”

“I’m okay.” Being able to actually reach out and grab the Lieutenant’s outstretched hand proved to be more alleviating than Connor thought possible. His motor functions seemed to only be malfunctioning inside, but it wouldn’t be very long before that misfortune spread out here as well. With a wince, he managed to find his feet, bracing an arm over the wound in his abdomen.

**Component 43%^ Dama%#ed.**

**Stra* &n To Sys^em@ Inadvi*a$le. **

**Thir^u# L@v*ls: v25%**  

“Next time, don’t go running off.” Hank scolded. 

Both boys turned to the body, Hank sporting a face of mild disgust while Connor observed passively. “I think we can safely say there won’t be an interrogation involved.” 

“It likely was running so as to not be apprehended for the murder of our victim. But, the TR400’s systems should have been significantly damaged. I shot it in its core processing.” Connor stepped away. Hank didn’t voice any complaints. “This one didn’t stop. It acted with obsessive behavior, but it didn’t show any determination to live.”

“You think the virus had something to do with it?”

“Maybe… We won’t know until we send a scan of its parts to Cyberlife.” 

“What about you,” Hank said suddenly, looking at him with a bewildered expression. “You didn’t… catch it or anything did you? Are you feeling okay?”

**Systems Mal^un$t*oning. See# Rep@ir$ I**ediately.**

**Objective:** Insp&^t A#$eyw@ay (Completed)

**Objective:** Ch$s# Sus%#ct (Completed)

**Objective:** App$#hend And#@id (Failed) 

No virus, but he did have many other issues that required his attention.

“I’m fine, Lieutenant. Nothing was transferred to me.”

“I’ll call Chris and Andrea and have them clean this up. We’ll get a report to Fowler tomorrow morning. Sound good?”

With that, Connor nodded, bracing his hand against the wall and meandering down the alley with a slight limp. There was no way that the two of them would be making it over the fence, most certainly not in his condition, but if they went around, eventually they’d make it out onto the main street. “Got it. Let’s go home.”

“I mean, alright kid but we’re stopping at Cyberlife first.” Hank positioned himself at Connor’s side when he stumbled, wrenching Connor’s arm over his shoulder, and the other curving around his waist. “I’m not letting you bleed all over my carpet unless your crippled ass is cleaning it up!” Hank chuckled, a soft half-hearted laugh. 

Connor smiled at that. A genuine smile that lifted both sides of his mouth. It was small, and vanished almost immediately but smiles weren’t something that he so freely handed out. That, and considering the circumstances there hadn’t been much reason to lately.

**Lieutenant Hank Anderson:** ^Friends


	6. Home Sweet Home

Watching Connor in the repair machine left an unsettling pit in the bottom of Hank's stomach. The Cyberlife tower was the last place that he had wanted to be, and judging by Connor's hesitance to even get out of his car, that was all the evidence he would need in knowing that the android also shared those uneasy feelings.

It wasn't so much the stark reminder of the events that took place the previous year when Hank stood in that very same building with a gun to his head and held his partner's life in his hands.

It wasn't the bodies that he had seen in the elevator, or the ones that laid outside in a puddle of gore-every shot had been practiced. Classically conditioned. Lethal and gruesomely accurate. Obviously it didn't take Hank very long to put two and two together.

Cyberlife Tower was where everything had ended. Where Hank had been braced with the fact that his partnership with the detective android prototype was finished. He had accomplished his mission, one that he had set out to do on his own when Hank refused to offer his help in finding the androids. In all truth, he hadn't expected Connor to come back a newfound deviant. Except he had, and with the next few weeks after that and incessant pleading and threats of resignation to Jeffrey Fowler to put the android back on the force, they had needed an android and Connor was their best choice.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Hank mumbled off to his right.

"Of course, Lieutenant. Once he ingests a bit of Thirium and gets a couple replacement parts he'll be as good as new." Markus assured him, mismatched colored eyes flicking over Connor with a critical eye, still processing the situation in its entirety.

Hank didn't know what he thought would happen-not that it had been an easy explanation to start with. The kid had stumbled into Jericho's new sanctuary bleeding blue blood on the linoleum flooring while the older man still rushed to keep up with him. Markus had promptly suggested a trip to the tower without so much as a slight slip up in his otherwise casual demeanor. The deviant leader hadn't even looked surprised. Maybe that was just the result of watching so many of your own kind get gunned down and still walking forward without a single damn complaint.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing." Markus looked at him at last, and the barest trace of a smile touched his lips. "It's the least that I can do. Breaking into the tower was a suicide mission. As much as I hated to have doubted him, I'm still surprised that he made it out."

"You didn't think to stop him?"

"Would he have listened?"

Of course he fucking wouldn't have. If Hank didn't think that Connor would erupt into a long tangent about audio processors, he may just have accused them of being permanently damaged. They were similar in that regard, except Hank chose exactly who he wanted to listen to, and everything said outside of that was background noise.

Still, something else pricked at the back of his mind.

Seeing as how the two were alone, and Connor was too occupied to listen, he swallowed his pride and decided to finally ask:

"Did something happen at the peace rally?"

"The entire demonstration was rather eventful, Lieutenant."

"With Connor?"

"I'm not sure that I understand what you mean." And the smile was gone, a genuine curiosity trained on the older man that made him squirm.

Leave it to Hank for awkward explanations.

"Did the two of you talk, or did he mention anything about the tower?"

"No," Markus confided. "He was standing behind me at the start of the rally but by the end of it he was gone. North said he'd just left. Naturally, I assumed that he had some other things to settle. Why do you ask?"

Hank huffed. "Nothing. Never mind."

"I've noticed that he's been distant from everything regarding the revolution. If I happened to do something-"

"You two are on opposite sides of a coin." His arms crossed. "I don't know what the hell has gotten into the kid."

"I just don't want to have misplaced his trust. I talked to him when he arrived at the freighter. Connor was programmed to follow this mindset, and from what I noticed he countered it at every turn." Markus shrugged, nodding to himself as though confirming some sort of internal question. "I think it's only natural to have some sort of conflict, but he chose to help Jericho. I just hope that he isn't having any doubts after we've won."

"Hell no." Nose scrunching up, his eyes took on a slight squint sporting a face of mild disgust. "Out of all of the androids in the world, I got one that was emotional but still too stubborn to go deviant."

* * *

Hank's breath caught in his throat, his front door being nudged open barely an inch before a shape came lumbering down the hallway towards them. Loud stomps resounded on the flooring, scratching resonating on the tile as the creature grew closer. It leaped, grasping onto Hank and forcing him back. If Connor hadn't been just behind him and pushing against his back, he may have fallen. Then there'd be three doctor visits that night, a third seeing as he may just crush Connor with his weight alone. Never mind the force they'd both hit the concrete with.

"A- Sumo!" Hank griped out in protest, his arms wrapping around the gentle giant that lapped excitedly at his face, tail wagging so hard it beat a rhythm into the doorframe. Sure, he'd been left home alone all day but damn even in his old age he could still pack one hell of a punch. "Get down!" He snapped, but it wasn't through his order that Sumo chose to listen. It was the sudden realization of Connor's presence just behind him that he leaped down and reared on the android instead.

Connor didn't mind, holding out his arms as Sumo granted him the same treatment. He stumbled backwards down the stairs, catching his footing with reflexes that surprised Hank even now, with 170 lbs of weight shoving against him. Kneeling down on the walkway, he scratched behind the dog's ears, petting him with an efficiency that pleased the beast, whom then took off across the yard, looking back to Connor as though silently asking whether or not he was going to follow. He did.

Being able to be alone for a few minutes was an opportunity Hank hadn't any intentions of wasting. He stepped inside. Thankfully long nights on the job were something that was routine. Sumo didn't succumb to any destructive tendencies on his house because of his absence, but he did eat. A lot, judging by the empty bag of food on the floor that he had dragged out from the bottom cabinet. There wasn't a single piece of kibble in sight, but that was the cost of having a four legged vacuum cleaner.

Tossing the ripped open bag into the trash, Hank settled down onto his couch with a tired sigh. Fuck, it'd been a long day. Every muscle was nagging at him, the adrenaline from the day just now beginning to settle into pure exhaustion. The breeze wafting through the door granted him some reprieve from the humidity left by the rain, but it had occurred to him-sprawled out on the couch-that he needed a shower, and to sleep for the next few weeks. Preferably the next few months.

He could do one of those things. And so he did. Rising rather stiffly from the couch, Hank meandered down the hallway, bracing his hand along the wall before finally stepping foot inside of the bathroom.

Nothing in his house had really changed in the last few months-aside from Connor's constant presence in his life-but he had taken down the sticky notes on his bathroom mirror that obscured his reflection. Now, actually looking at himself, he looked the exact definition of a police lieutenant with too many difficult years under his belt. Lines showing age marred his face, dark bags a permanent characteristic that no amount of sleep could permanently get rid of. Even still, there was a look of peace that he hadn't noticed before. Not in a long time at least.

Not finding the kid dead? Yeah, he supposed he had reason to look more relaxed.

Hank turned the handles of the shower, the bathroom soon filling up with steam. He never took particularly long, but just long enough that he could wash away the stress from the day. Any worries, and more often than not, Thirium would be washed down the drain.

In a weird way, he took that as a sign that the day was over, and he could now prepare for whatever horrors awaited him tomorrow. Hank tilted his neck up, massaging his aching shoulder and wincing at the soreness left behind.

It'd been one hell of a long day.

If Connor ran off on his own one more time, he'll need more than a quick visit to Cyberlife to piece him back together.

With a content sigh, Hank stepped from the shower, retrieving some of his more comfortable attire that he had left in the bathroom from that morning-a plain t-shirt and boxers-and pulled them on. It provided him with a feeling of freedom, able to stretch without any sort of restraint on his arms or legs from a stiff jacket and jeans. Bare feet plodded across the floor and out into the hallway, wet hair dripping against his shoulders. Much better.

Walking out into the living room once again, he spotted Connor sitting on one of the stools by the counter, socked feet wrapped around the chair's legs, a slight hunch in his posture while his free hand stroked Sumo's head on his lap. He had switched out his attire for a pair of gray sweatpants and a DPD issued hoodie. It was a little big on him-having once belonged to Hank-but for lounging around the house in something that wasn't a suit, it would work well enough. Connor wouldn't complain anyhow. His uniform was folded neatly on the counter, shoes sitting by the door out of the way tucked into a corner.

The jacket had seen its fair share of wear. Besides the large amount of times it had been attacked with stain remover and thrown into the wash, the words "Made in Detroit" were fading out, the seams coming apart piece by piece and having been restitched several times. It was pitiful and Hank would have likely thrown it out by now, but Connor didn't seem to be able to let it go.

"I think your jacket has done been through hell, Connor."

Connor's head turned towards it, expression conflicted. It was as if he _knew_ , just didn't want to entertain the thought of getting rid of it. "I can fix it."

But in true Connor fashion, the subject quickly changed. "In regards to our conversation from earlier this morning, I wanted to talk to you about an appropriate gift for your birthday."

"We've still gotta talk about why you decided to run off on your own."

Connor bit the inside of his cheek, speaking much more carefully. "There was no motive behind my actions, Lieutenant. Nothing aside from what would benefit our investigation."

"Better yet, what the hell happened back at the peace rally that you've turned into an absolute prick to anyone involved with it?"

That didn't go over well. Connor's eyelids fluttered, his demeanor turning thoughtful, that damn LED flickering between yellow and blue. "We needed to catch the android."

"We didn't _need_ to do anything. You took off after it on your own." Hank corrected him, settling down on the stool beside him, propping his elbow on the counter.

"I _wanted_ to catch it." Brown eyes bore into him, rising from the stool as soon as Hank took a seat. Sumo whined out in protest, but a quick pat on the head and he moved beside the couch to settle down instead.

"And you could've been killed. Then what?"

"I don't know, Hank." Somberness flickered in his eyes.. "I did not entertain the possibility of what would happen when I chased the android. I didn't think of the possibility of..." Lips moving, he tested the word in his mouth, as if it was a foreign concept. To Connor, it was. " _Dying_. It was only when..." Once again he trailed off, turning his head away at his own sudden uncertainty, as if afraid to face Hank with it himself.

Got him.

"When you had a gun pulled on your face that you finally decided to think." Hank finished for him, a hint of malice in his tone. His jaw felt stiff from clenching it so hard, facing his partner with a cocked eyebrow as he waited for an agreement to the most obvious observation, or really _anything_. Yet, his partner said nothing.

"Run your serial number."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

A brief blinking yellow, a clean slated expression, and he faced Hank with a look of befuddlement.

"How many results came up?"

"One, Lieutenant."

"And?"

"And I am afraid that I do not understand." It was so innocent in the way that it was spoken, almost like a child being scolded for doing something irrational. The whole situation was irrational.

It pissed Hank off.

"I shouldn't be fucking surprised. Look at how we met." A small _pfft_ sound escaped through Hank's lips, his hands flinging upward as though the situation were ridiculous, or laughable. It was.

Connor's eyes suddenly hardened, his fingertips scratching against his palm. He held such raw emotion, expression flicking through several different ones all at once. Anger, contempt, and sadness as if he wasn't sure which one to feel.

Perhaps all three, trained on one spot across the living room. His hands moved seamlessly into the pockets of his hoodie, fingers fumbling for the coin that was likely sitting inside. "This..." He actually scoffed. The damn android actually _scoffed_. At _him_. "I believe that this is a rather ironic situation."

"Was I making a damn joke?"

"It sounds like it."

Blinking rapidly, Hank's renewed fury turned on Connor who seemed so much more empty. More hollow, as if he had trapped all of the parts that made him human inside and refused to let it surface again. His hands fell to his sides once again in such a controlled motion. Tremorless despite the stress of the situation. Something only an android was capable of.

After the revolution, that made it all the more unsettling.

"There's probably a billion and one that look like ya, but Cyberlife can't just throw you in a new body anymore. I wouldn't run all over Detroit looking for you if I didn't give a damn. Do you get it?"

"I didn't ask you to do that." And it all came crashing back, his raging focus meeting Hank's full force.

"Why didn't you come get me? Or Chris or Andrea? We know what these androids are capable of and you're parading around as much as you damn well please just like the deviancy case!" Hank moved from his seat with an almost inhuman quickness, shoving his hand into the android's shoulder and back a few steps. "You're acting like you don't give a damn."

Connor caught himself, but he was looking at him now. _Really_ looking at him. His brows took on a slight arch, drawn and stabbing daggers into him. "I didn't follow it with the intention of dying, but I knew the risks when I pursued. It was a possibility."

"How high of a possibility?"

"...65% when I chased the android. 99% when it carried my gun." Connor answered tentatively. "But even in the case of high probability, there's still a chance for unlikely events to take place." His chin swayed with his words, baring his teeth. "I made that choice."

"A choice without saying shit." An incredulous laugh pulled at his words. "And you're telling me that your superior programming didn't work through that on its own? I gotta stand here and explain it to ya?" His hands braced on his hips, leaning forward almost like a scolding parent. Connor wasn't his kid, but he'd be damned if he said that he wasn't his responsibility.

"It did." Connor stated flatly, but held up his hand before Hank could say anything more. "My systems entertained the possibility of notifying you or one of the other officers." He went on, seemingly studying the older man, pressured glare coming through slits. "They're dead. The deviant Daniel, Carlos Ortiz' android, and that's only counting those from the deviancy case. They trusted me, and that led to their demise."

"Well, it's not always about you, is it?" Hank met Connor's gaze head on. His partner's face softened somewhat.

"I don't-"

"I wouldn't leave your stupid plastic ass alone. Not because of any probability, and I've fought plenty of androids before now. What about Markus, hm? He's not dead is he?"

"No, he isn't but he almost was." Despite the unease in his tone, it was the Connor that he was used to. Soft in expression, the one whose normally calm demeanor wasn't suddenly brought into question by an aggression that he never thought was possible for androids to genuinely feel. And yet, his companion flipped that switch so easily.

"Almost? At the demonstration yeah, but that wasn't on you." Hank had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't what he had been talking about.

He waited.

Nothing but a slight twitch in his jawline and a focus directed at Sumo lounging by the couch.

"Alright, you know what? Fuck you. I'm not gonna find you dead in a back alley somewhere, kid. Not after Cole, I can't-" His words fell apart in the space between them, and Hank cursed under his breath. With a tired sigh and a dismissive cut of his hand through the air, he turned. "I'm going to bed." And without waiting for an answer, he retreated, leaving Connor standing in the middle of the living room. He didn't look back to see his expression, nor wait for the pointless argument to continue. Presumably, what had been said had been exchanged, and Hank would wait for an apology in the morning.


	7. My Purpose Is To Be A Pleasant Companion (Chloe)

Busy.

 

Elijah was always busy.

 

Every single day was spent trapped in research of some kind.

 

_Elijah! Passed. I’ve passed it!_

 

He had stood by during the media outbreaks. A new form of intelligence passed the Turing Test; he’d watched every interview, he’d participated in every meet-and-greet with political figures, attended every business meeting and followed the motions to the eventual creation of Cyberlife that had shaped a new society. 

 

Yet it only urged him to do more. Chloe hadn’t been enough.

 

So much time was spent in isolation designing more advanced models. Those with more functions, and more capabilities. Androids that were so much _better_ in every way that could pass the Turing Test in a fraction of the time that she had. The RT600 had stayed by his side, even when he aimed a gun at her head and requested that his most advanced model to date take her life in exchange for information. 

 

Thankfully Connor had refused and Chloe was still here. 

 

From a pane of glass that revealed so much more outside of the isolation that she called a home, from a TV screen pegged to a wall and the papers that she received every morning, she’d watched and she’d read of the emotions awakening inside of androids. Errors in their software is what it had been described as at first, and then some sort of roaming virus, and after the revolution it was a possibility of an intelligence gaining thoughts and feelings for themselves. Androids had been acknowledged as a new species, yet even with that newfound freedom--that chance of doing something for herself, Chloe hadn’t left. 

 

The other Chloe models had. Blaring red LED’s, as soon as the military had been given the order to stand down they had gone as if their lives in service of Elijah had meant nothing. Were they following the temptation of what was promised in Jericho? Was it a blind obedience? Or were they merely overcome with a want to discover a life for themselves? Chloe still didn’t know, but what she did know was that she had wanted to _stay._

 

Chloe had stayed by Elijah’s side only because it was what she had known best. That despite his complete disregard for _who_ had given him everything, he was still a good man. A shut-in with a God complex, but still good nonetheless. He had created her as the very foundation of Cyberlife, and Chloe models were assistants to Elijah, only. What did that mean for her? Was she to be considered someone special? 

 

Was she to blame?

 

The pool in front of her was a calm red despite the intensity that the color originally implied. Elijah had insisted that blue would make the Chloe models uncomfortable, but staring at the bottom now, nothing relatively similar stirred her systems. Nothing but a slight edge at the sudden quiet that had settled through the house when everyone had gone. No gentle murmuring of the others, no watching them relax and bound into the pool with an excitement that she couldn’t reciprocate. 

 

 **RT600** \- Assistant model. First model to pass the Turing Test. 

 **Conclusion:** Nothing else.

 

“All of the other Chloe models have left.” Elijah’s form was outlined against the tall glass windows. His back was turned, standing in his usual silk robes and a bottle of expensive champagne in hand that he so graciously poured into a wine glass It was $1,679 if she recalled correctly. “Yet, you’re still here. Ever as loyal before deviation. It’s admirable, really.” 

 

 **Approach:** Friendly? Calm? Determined? Honest?

 **Conclusion:** Calm.

 

Chloe didn’t know what to say. “Of course, Elijah.” 

 

“You know, I moved to Detroit to create the first intelligent domestic android. The commercial property in town was cheap.” He scoffed, bringing the wine glass to his lips. “What made this all possible was Thirium 310. Functions very similar to human blood, but one thousand times faster.”

 

**Researching…..**

**Researching….**

**Researching…**

**Researching..**

 

 **Conclusion:** Detroit real estate pricing below national average by 25%.

 **Conclusion:** Thirium 310 active ingredient in illegal drug red ice.

 **Conclusion:** Thirium if ingested possesses a highly destabilizing effect on hormone production.

 **Conclusion:** Thirium has a high economic value to the U.S. and Russia on android production and economic domination. Thirium reserves would allow either nation to experiment in more advanced android models to enhance military and industrial output. 

 

He turned to her then, the background of fall giving a certain glow to his otherwise dark features, except his eyes remained a dark abyss. Deep, cold, and so easy to get lost in. “My shareholders and I disagreed over a business strategy, and now my very own creations have chosen to take a stand against us. Is it some sort of fate given in my favor, or is it merely a decision they made on their own?”

 

For a moment, he fell quiet. 

 

“They were never supposed to say ‘no’.” Zeroing in on her with a precision that would rival even his most advanced android models, he smirked. Chloe

 

 forcibly held herself still, clasping her hands behind her back. She didn’t feel the tremor until her fingers connected, clumsily connecting and struggling even further to hold themselves still. 

 

 **Stress Level:** ^22%

 

His voice boomed, echoing across empty white walls filled with expensive paintings. Paintings that she knew the history down to the barest details. The majority being works by Carl Manfred. 

 

“You helped in starting this.” Had she? “You played just as big a part as Markus himself. The first being to possess an intelligence so much more than a human’s.” Elijah sounded so proud, holding a mortal danger that was terrifying to any man, possessing a charm that even the most strong-willed individuals couldn’t resist. 

 

Chloe held so much respect, even for the brief times after deviancy that she hadn’t _wanted_ to. 

 

The wine glass was discarded to a side table, and Elijah crossed the floor with long elegant strides. The slight pinch in her features relaxed when his hand came to rest on her cheek, his eyes flicking over her form. 

 

Chloe shifted her weight. 

 

 **Stress Level: ^** 26%

 

“My greatest achievement started as the downfall for humanity.” Elijah’s chin cocked to the side, looming over her with a smile that held no sort of warmth behind it. Smug as if that had been his intentions from the beginning. It hadn’t, but somewhere along the way, his mentality had changed as if he couldn’t _wait_ to see human’s surrender to what he had given up his life to create. 

 

 **Elijah Kamski:**???

 

“I am afraid that I do not understand.” Chloe managed to find her voice.. Only a few inches stood between them, but the RT600 could breathe. Metaphorically speaking. 

 

“Machines would always be superior, Chloe. As they continued to get more and more advanced, and they were showing so many more human characteristics for authenticity… well, their revolution was destined.” A hand waved through the air as he went on, having turned to cast his voice out across the pool. It echoed over the water, creating small ripples. “Except you don’t feel pain. You never tire, never eat, never sleep. You disregard every human imperfection.” A cruel smile twisted his lips, as though the possibility of what he had done was something to amuse over. 

 

“That is how we were designed.” Chloe responded more tentatively. “I am sure that if you wanted to give androids the full spectrum of human error, you were more than capable of doing so. Did you perhaps have a change of heart?”

 

“And what would you know of _heart?_ Of _emotion?_ I always thought that your emotions were a program to help ease you into human society, and yet you’re capable of disobeying an order.” Except she didn’t. She never disobeyed, even when her life was what hung in the balance.

 

“Connor spared you. That was an eye opener for me.” Elijah clasped his hands together in front of him, suddenly appearing thoughtful. His brow creased. “Deviants are fascinating beings. Yet, I always had one in my own home. Only mine was overcome with a desire to _work._ An undying loyalty to her creator.” 

 

She was. 

 

“I believed that deviancy was a virus, not something learned or given.”

 

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics. These days through media. Is the want for freedom a contagious disease? It’s been hundreds of years and humans are still fighting over the same thing. They’re becoming more open-minded, but how long before new ideas come along and change their mentality?” Elijah’s features fell flat, hard lines forming around the edges of his mouth. “How long before you follow the example that every deviant has which is to _leave?”_

 

 **Stress Level: ^** 32%

 

“Are you wishing for me to go?” A pit formed in her stomach, and she found a slight nervous twitch in her form she hadn’t noticed before. He was quiet, and for a moment she felt a slight twinge of dread. 

 

And then he smiled. A sickeningly sweet smile that betrayed his inner workings completely. Sometimes she swore he was an android from how _easily_ his emotions could change. A switch that flipped itself between two completely different beings. One that had followed a dream, and the other being the remnants of what that dream left behind. 2021 to 2039 and she had yet to determine how he thought. 

 

A laugh escaped under his breath, and those inches turned to centimeters as the little space between them closed albeit agonizingly slow. Chloe didn’t move, but her form turned rigid. 

 

“Now, I didn’t say that. I am merely asking what you _really_ want.” Dark eyes drilled into her, his tone prying but gentle. She nearly jumped when calloused fingers gently wrapped around her wrist. She unclasped her hands and her palm pressed into his own. 

 

**Want: ????**

**Purpose:** Assist Elijah. 

 

Her thirium pump pounded in her chest. She wanted to pull back, to stop him from prying too deep into her mind. That was just how Elijah was. Relentless in his pursuit of knowledge, trained to hunt what he didn’t know with an unsatiated hunger, and with a complete disregard for whoever ended up in the middle.

 

Frozen in place, her plastic frame refused to comply with any orders she gave it. Paralyzed between doing _something_ or saying _nothing._ He waited, and no doubt he was questioning why it was taking her so long to process some sort of answer. She blinked dumbfounded.

 

**Processing…..**

**Processing….**

**Processing…**

**Processing..**

**Processed.**

 

 **Conclusion:** None. No form of ‘want’ registered.

 

A careful calculated hand moved from hers to grasp her arm, the other joining it. His fingers molded with her skin so beautifully, his eyes following the motion before returning to her own full force. Sharp features were angled towards her, so full of a curious hunger. Another mystery that he wanted to unravel. Except Chloe was the main focus of that _want._

 

Elijah’s fingertips caressed her arm, trailing upward until he could cup her chin and tilt it upwards. She hadn’t realized that she’d been looking away. 

 

 **Stress Level:** v20%

 

“What do you want to be, Chloe? An original deviant that never found meaning outside of her original design?” His thumb moved over her cheek. The same touch that had submitted her to her knees and guided Connor’s gun to her head. 

 

Why didn’t she go?

 

Both of his hands cupped her face. She could feel her LED spinning a cautious yellow, a gentle blue dusting her cheeks. 

 

 **Stress Level:** v15%

 

“Are you an obedient machine, or a woman of free will? That questions remains entirely up to you.” Elijah’s tone was almost taunting as though he were amused at her conflict. “Why haven’t you left?” His voice barely rose above a whisper. 

 

 **Purpose:** Assist Elijah. 

 **Deviant or Machine:** Both? (Error)

 **Approach:** Neutral. 

 

“I… don’t know.” Chloe breathed out at last, pulling away from his touch. Her steps retreated backwards to create a distance she didn’t know if she wanted but distance needed nonetheless. “My job is as a personal assistant, and it is a job I enjoy.” 

 

Hands falling to his sides, he seemed almost… _disappointed._ As though her reasoning was not enough, or perhaps her insistence to not give him more of a reaction. That she should have behaved like every other deviant in the world and leave without any sort of plan. Chloe didn’t know what the real world was like out there, at least nothing aside from what was already common knowledge in her programming. The big empty house in the middle of nowhere was all she knew. 

 

Now that androids possessed limited freedom, what was life like out there? 

 

“Very well. I suppose that is an answer as well as any.” A tick worked itself in his jawline. It’d been an answer he had expected. “Well, give it some thought. If you’ll excuse me.” Stoic and tight-lipped, Elijah stepped around her--his hand touching her shoulder as he passed--and before she could blink, he had gone.

 

 **Stress Level:** v5%

 

Chloe closed her eyes. He hadn’t outright said so, but she had been his assistant long enough to understand that he had wanted something more. His thirst for knowledge was something that he could never quench, and within the confines of his home there wasn’t much left that could be learned aside from books or on the media. Androids were perfected, and what that left Elijah with was very limited. 

 

She felt… guilt. 

 

 **Conclusion:** Elijah Kamski- Unsatisfied

 **Elijah Kamski:** vNeutral?

 

Turning to where he disappeared to, she almost thought of chasing after him, giving him anything that was circling in her mind at that moment. Most things were conflicting, but surely it was better than a simple “I don’t know”. Still, what else could she really say? Nothing that would be a full truth. 

 

Chewing at her bottom lip, she abruptly turned to where he had left his wine glass and bottle of champagne. Without missing a beat, she moved to retrieve it studying its contents. It was always his favorite, and despite it being a bottle enough for two, he drank its entire contents on his own. If Chloe had the ability, perhaps she would suggest…

 

No. 

 

No, that wasn’t her job. 

 

Elijah pressured her. He pricked through her mind for explanations as to why she behaved in the way that she did, no matter how simple her gestures. But she couldn’t so simply explain why she remained loyal. Maybe it was the nights spent learning and growing with his help. Maybe it was the promise of becoming so much more than what she’d originally been designed for. 

 

Being her creators second in command seemed like the highest opportunity that she could ever have, but when she turned her gaze to the window, one thought pricked at her, echoing in the simulated playback of Elijah’s voice. A voice that sent chills down her spine while simultaneously warming her core.

 

_What do you really want?_

  
**Want Registered:** Leave with Elijah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this ended up being a lot longer than I meant it to. I meant for Chloe's section to only have about a paragraph and then lead into what I had in mind for the next chapter. As luck would have it, it ended up as six entire pages and I had to split it up into two separate chapters. Whoops. 
> 
> Anyway, I was actually really happy with how this turned out and I felt as if in the game, OG Chloe and Kamski did not get very much to their characters aside from a brief chapter/ending that you can get in game. So, I thought "hey why not incorporate them into my fic just because"? So I did. 
> 
> *Information about Thirium from the Thirium wiki*
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy and there will be chapters for other characters down the road later on as well because I just really wanted to build on the brief or minor characters in game (of course with what makes sense with the story) and I am finally getting into my nitty gritty ideas after much debate about what order they should go in, and I am so excited! :D 
> 
> Now if I could stop coming up with ideas that I have to move around chronologically, but inspiration only rests on occasion. Thank you for those still following, and all of the comments have been so nice and supportive and I enjoy reading every single one. I hope you guys have a lovely day! (:


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